


How did THAT Happen?

by LadyStrangeandUnusual (Dream_Wreaver)



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: And Delete Entitled Comments, Background Musicalbabes, Cheating, Deetzlands, I Reserve the Right Not to tag Ships that Aren't the Focus of the Story, Lydia has four parents don't at me, Multi, Polyamory, Sexual Experimentation, everyone is confused, polyamory saves the day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-12-20 18:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21061160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_Wreaver/pseuds/LadyStrangeandUnusual
Summary: In which missing someone leads to finding that love isn't limited to just one person. Or in which everyone except Delia is pleasantly surprised by how not straight they are.





	1. Charles and Barbara

**Author's Note:**

> So a friend shared this ship with me and tbh, it made too much sense. So here's a fic for them

It had just been one of those days. They came less and less frequently since he started talking with Lydia, and a therapist. Said therapist had said that these days would come, and that in order to heal properly you would need to let them come, and let them go. And those were the days he missed Emily. Talking with Lydia about her mother, reminiscing on the good times they’d had, it helped. But for him, all it starkly reminded him of was the fact that Lydia still had so many milestones Emily had wanted to see, and never would. And it had only gotten worse as the day progressed. Starting with a simple night in. And a simple night out. The latter was in Lydia's case. She was taking Beetlejuice out of the house and away from all of them. Adam and Barbara still couldn't leave the house. Charles and Delia didn't feel like leaving. And they were all worried about Lydia and her little pet demon. Well, _ most _ of them were. Delia was being very blasé and nonchalant about the whole thing.

“Oh Charles,” she said lightly, still occupied with tossing a salad while Barbara took care of the rest of their meal, “I don't know _ why _ you worry so much. Lydia’s a big girl, she can handle herself. Besides, I saw how smitten he was with her, he won't hurt her,”

“But he already did!” Charles protested, “He forced her to marry him. And even if it was just a part of a plan to get rid of him _ why _ are they still married?”

“You heard what that spanish lady said,” Delia reminded him, “There’s no such thing as ‘Til death do us part’ down there. And Lydia entered the Netherworld before she said ‘I do’. She’s a paradox now, both alive and dead, and as such she’s just as much subject to the rules of the dead as she is to the rules of the living.”

“Still, you don’t have to be so… _ content _ about it,” Charles ran a hand through his hair, “Lydia’s irrevocably bound to a monster,”

“But he’s _ her _ monster Charles,” Delia countered, “I saw the way he lit up when he thought Lydia was back for him. I heard the way he said her name. I don’t even think he realizes it but he’s head over heels for her Charles. He wouldn’t hurt her, and I’m absolutely certain of that.”

“But-”

“Let me put it to you this way,” Delia informed him, “I took Lydia to the doctors and asked for a kit to be done. Just in case. Do you know what they found? Nothing. He didn’t do anything to her, and he very well could have. You know that, and I know that. Lydia isn’t going to be a little girl forever Charles, she’s young, let her live her own life.”

And Charles, though he did love Delia dearly, couldn't help his frustration. Emily had been weird, but she'd known where and when to draw the line. It had been one of those days where she was on his mind frequently, especially when Delia acted so… _ different_. He still couldn't accept the fact that his daughter was married to that… to that _ thing_. Or worse, that his daughter was _ completely fine _ with that fact. But getting mad at Delia about it wouldn't help, she could be so over dramatic sometimes.

Charles turned away and retreated to his office. But he couldn't help the extra force he’d put into shutting the door. He sat down behind his desk and put his head in his hands. Maybe he had needed a wife, maybe he really did care for Delia, but this was getting to be so frustrating. Delia’s new age spiritualism meant that she wasn't going to be any good when it came to disciplining Lydia, or tying to convince the rebellious teenager what she was allowing was wrong. Beetlejuice, that demon, Charles had known what he wanted from Lydia. It wasn't about gaining life, or a green card into the living world. He'd heard that massive manifestation as he'd run terrified for his life. It would haunt him until his dying days, and probably long after that too now that he knew what was coming.

_ “We've come for your daughter Chuck,” _

And he’d done it. That demon was still here, married to his baby girl. And Delia was treating it like it was nothing. Emily liked the strange and unusual, much like their daughter, but Emily had never wanted to marry a demon. Emily had never wanted anything more than the ability to be a little spooky at all times. Emily had been cultured, refined, always there when she was needed. Emily had always…

Brought him a glass of brown liquor. Just as Barbara was doing now. She slowly padded in through the door, which she'd opened silently.

“Hey,” she began awkwardly, “I couldn't help but overhear earlier and I thought you might want this,” she offered it out to him slowly, “Sorry, Adam and I are still getting the hang of manipulating objects with liquid in them.”

“Did Delia make this as a peace offering?” Charles asked resignedly. He would take it if it was, but she had a tendency to not even realize why he might be upset. Like calling in her fraudulent guru instead of an exorcist like he'd asked when they'd originally tried to fix this whole mess.

“No,” Barbara clarified. “I just thought it might help,”

Charles took the glass and sniffed it. It wasn't just straight alcohol like he usually took it. He glanced up at Barbara, who looked a little awkward,

“What is it?” He asked, eyeing the glass once more and tentatively taking a sip. It was good, and familiar.

“It's a Manhattan,” Barbara offered, “I thought it might remind you of… home,”

“_You _ know how to make a Manhattan?” Charles asked, even as he took another sip. It should have been obvious by that alone she could. He was very picky when it came to his cocktails.

“Adam and I used to take all these adult recreational classes when we were still alive,” Barbara offered as an explanation, “One of them was basic bartending. So I learned how to make a few cocktails. Are you alright?” She asked as she watched him down the entire thing faster than she would have thought.

“I’m fine,” Charles said, voice hoarse as the liquor burned its way down his throat. But he was anything but fine. He missed Emily, he was upset with Delia’s positivity to something that to him was _ clearly _ problematic, and overall he just didn’t want to have to face the world tonight, “But I could use another drink. Would you like-” he cut himself off as he remembered that the dead required neither sleep nor sustenance of any kind. And he was loathe to spill very expensive bourbon all over his carpet.

“No,” Barbara replied, knowing he was trying to be thoughtful, in his own way, “Would you like some company?” she offered instead. And he found he didn’t want to be alone. Didn’t want to deal with Delia, or anyone, but didn’t want to be by himself.

Charles poured himself another drink while Barbara took a seat on the edge of his desk. He’d noticed she didn’t like to sit properly on things, though he didn’t know what had caused it. He tossed it back and shivered yet again, “It’s just,” he began, clearing his throat after realizing how maudlin his tone was, “I haven’t been having a very good day today.”

“What’s wrong?” Barbara asked, looking and sounding genuinely concerned. Which she probably was. Charles took a deep breath,

“It’s just… I miss her,”

“Miss who? Lydia?” Barbara tilted her head to the side. Charles didn’t say anything and that was what clued her in, “Oh, you mean… you mean your…”

“Emily,” Charles offered, “Her name is- _ was _ Emily,”

“Lydia had such funny stories about her,” Barbara offered, placing a consoling hand on his shoulder, “From what I heard, she was a wonderful woman. You must have felt like the luckiest man in the world,”

“I was,” Charles admitted, pouring another shot and taking it in one go, “Emily was everything to me. Her and Lydia. They were my whole world. And then, it felt like my world shattered, half of it gone and the other half of it slipping away. And I couldn’t do anything to fix it. And now, now well, it’s just been a hard day. Not the least because Delia refuses to see that there’s anything wrong with the fact that my daughter is married to a demon, and she’s _ okay _ with that!”

Barbara let out a long suffering sigh, “I know what you mean,” she agreed, “Adam and I don’t approve of Lydia’s relationship with him either. But what can we do? If we tell her no that’ll only encourage her to do it more, and we can’t in good conscience pretend to like or approve of him being stuck with us. The only thing we agreed we _ can _ do is tolerate him, and put our feet down when he crosses a line. Lydia listens to us when it’s important, and he listens to Lydia.”

“Well surely you could do _ something_?” Charles asked, putting a hand to his head as the room started to spin. Had that been his second shot after a full Manhattan, or his third?

Barbara pulled her hand away, and Charles realized she’d been touching him for quite a long time. He didn’t know if that was supposed to mean anything or not. He wasn’t about to ask. Barbara curled her arms around herself in a protective gesture,

“I was nearly exorcised the last time I tried to intervene,” she reminded him, voice quiet and distant, “I felt like I was being torn apart, dying all over again; only this time it was slow and painful. I never want to feel like that again. So I smile and put on a happy face, and I try to support Lydia, but I’ll always tell her when I think she’s crossing a line.”

“Well,” Charles let out a mirthless breath of laughter, “At least _ someone _ is. Delia is wonderful but she’s not exactly _ mothering _ material.”

“That reminds me,” Barbara asked, “Why _ did _ you marry Delia, if you don’t mind my asking? I mean, it’s not that she isn’t… nice, but your personalities don’t seem all that… compatible I guess I would say.”

“I…” Charles really thought about it for a moment. Why had he bothered getting involved with Delia to the point of asking her to be his second wife. Barbara was right, they didn’t have very amenable personalities. Even so, he still loved and cared for her, but his reasons for approaching her in the first place? “I wanted to forget.” he admitted, “I was so torn up about Emily, I thought that if I found someone else, someone different it would make all the pain go away. I needed a wife, Lydia needed a mother. I thought starting over again would fix everything but it didn’t. I still miss Emily, I still wish she were here. I wish she were like _ you_, and had stayed with us.”

“I hate to admit this,” Barbara replied after a moment, “But if it weren’t for B- _ him _ Adam and I wouldn’t be. He destroyed the Handbook which would have sent us right to the Netherworld.”

“He really caused a lot of trouble for all of us, didn’t he?” Charles asked as he poured and downed another shot, “But I suppose he forced Lydia and I to finally talk things out. I’d never speak any such appreciation in his presence though,”

“Agreed,” Barbara nodded. There was a beat of awkward silence, and then she ventured, “Tell me about Emily, if that’s alright…”

And so he did. He spoke of a vivacious woman with a wickedly weird sense of humor. Of someone who always had a way of bringing a smile to the faces of those she loved. A woman who was caring and sweet, and always seemed to have had the answers.

“You know,” Charles remarked, tossing the empty bottle, “Emily was the first time I ever truly knew what it meant to be in love with someone. I suppose that’s why it hurts so much,”

“I know,” Barbara nodded sympathetically, “Adam was my first love, my first _ real _ love anyways.”

“He’s a lucky man, to have you,”

Barbara blushed. At least, she made the ducking head motion of someone who was blushing. He wasn’t entirely sure if she _ was _ blushing though. His vision was a little hazy, and so was his tongue, “You’re beautiful,” he told her, placing a hand against her cheek.

She leaned into his touch, so warm, so different from the lingering chill she’d inevitably gotten used to. Fires, blankets, even touching the hot stove with her bare hands no longer allowed her to feel any warmth. To say nothing of when she touched Adam. and it wasn’t as though she no longer loved Adam, quite the opposite. But the warmth of another living being was… addictive.

“You’re not so bad looking yourself,” Barbara admitted, a shy smile on her face. She’d known it when she’d first set eyes on him.

Charles Deetz was an attractive man if you were into the older sort. At the time, Barbara had been so overwhelmed with her own vanished mortality that she hadn’t considered if she might be one of those people. And even if she’d later considered it, she was married. She wouldn’t betray Adam like that, but there was nothing bad about a little harmless flirting right? Charles was clearly drunk, either he wouldn’t remember come morning or they’d find a way to laugh it all off and go back to normal. He missed his wife Emily, whom Barbara seemed to remind him of, and he was complimenting her. She hadn’t been flirted with in a long, long time. Not since she and Adam had started dating, if she recalled.

She leaned her face into his hand, his fingers tangling into the golden locks of her perpetually long hair. All he could see was her. Barbara, Emily, his wife.

“Do I remind you of her?”

Charles was silent a moment, choked up with emotion. He looked into her eyes, staring right back into his own. And there was a sudden moment of clarity through the alcoholic haze. He knew what he wanted, but did he dare take it?

All the same, with pain and desire in his voice he answered her, “Yes,”

Charles leaned in, Barbara leaned down. They kissed. Charles tasted magic, the magic of life after death, of the unknown and otherworldly, the strange and unusual. Barbara tasted life, and warmth and something else she couldn’t name that buzzed and burned across her lips. It was easy to get lost in a kiss like that, and Charles himself forgot for just a burning moment that he needed to breathe. They pulled apart, panting.

Barbara felt shame burn in her face. What had she done? She’d… she’d betrayed Adam, that’s what she’d done. Maybe Charles had needed comfort, maybe he’d needed someone to be there for him, maybe Barbara couldn’t ignore her more matronly instincts to comfort and protect. But they had very clearly crossed a line. Charles was drunk, she should have known better. And yet, there had been a part of her that had enjoyed it, deeply. The thrill of the taboo and forbidden. How could she face Adam knowing what she’d done?

“I- uh… dinner!” Barbara quickly exclaimed, letting go of Charles and sliding off the desk, “Dinner’s just about ready, I should-”

“Wait,” Charles’ voice, and his hand at her wrist stopped her. He was standing now and god was he tall. Taller than Adam. He made Barbara feel small, but… safe. He wouldn’t hurt her, he couldn’t even if he tried. And his eyes, they looked so desperate, so lonely, for a wife he couldn’t have, couldn't hold anymore. But she was right here, wasn’t she? “I’m not hungry for food,”

If she’d had any blood in her system, it would have been rushing to her face. Maybe he was drunk, maybe in his mind’s eye he was seeing Emily and not her, and maybe she’d chosen to stay with Adam when they’d died… but Barbara was sick of being stuck and stagnant. Maybe this was bad… hell, it _ definitely _ was bad. But she wanted a change. She felt herself breathing, hard. It was difficult not to, at such a tactful yet unmistakable admission. Charles didn’t want food. He wanted _ her_. How long had it been since she’d been looked at the way he was looking at her? Slowly, he pulled her back, closer to him until she was up against his body. His warm, _ living _ body. Barbara shivered. She knew it was wrong, she knew she was probably going to hate herself for it later, but she’d once said she was done being the safe girl. Living her life that way had gotten her nowhere, what was wrong with a little risk?

“Emily,” Charles whispered, breath hot in her eternally cold ear. And Barbara melted, such love, such devotion, it made her weak in the knees. If only for tonight, if only for this stolen moment, she could be Emily, just for him.

BJ BJ BJ

There was no real evidence of any affair. Barbara’s clothes didn’t rumple, her neck couldn’t bear hickeys or love bites. No one else besides Charles usually went into his office, and his cologne could easily mask the smell of infidelity. It was perhaps, the easiest tryst to get away with, were it not for one thing. Her own conscience. That night she didn’t return to the attic even after she _ knew _ Adam would be waiting for her. She just couldn’t face him like that. Barbara didn’t want to lie to him, but she wasn’t strong enough at that moment to accept his rightful censure and disappointment with her. She’d knowingly, willingly broken their vows. So what if it had been “til death do us part”; they had _ chosen _ to stay together, and she had betrayed him. It was a good thing the dead didn’t need to sleep, because Barbara wouldn’t have been able to even if she’d wanted to. Instead she paced through the basement, careful not to disturb anything in Lydia’s darkroom. She hadn’t been in the basement since she had died, but considering how low she felt, she thought it apropo. That had been where Beetlejuice had found her,

“Whatcha doing up this late Babs?” he asked her, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he watched her pace.

“Wallowing in self-loathing,” Barbara explained, tone dull. She stopped, and looked at him, a considering but helpless expression on her face, “Beetlejuice, do you ever feel any remorse when you’ve done something wrong?”

“I didn’t,” he admitted, “For a long time. Because the way I see it, good people and bad people; all of ‘em die, all of ‘em go to the same place once they die. The Netherworld doesn’t differentiate or reward you for how you once lived. Being a model citizen don’t get you shit. You serve out your civil sentence and then you just go on like you never died at all. And the living world moves on and you get forgotten. So who gives a fuck whether you live an upstanding life or put a few skeletons in your closet Babs?”

“You said you did,” Barbara reminded him, “What changed?”

“I met Lydia,” Beetlejuice offered her, “You tell anyone I said this and I’ll put you right back in that damn box; but I felt bad for what I did -to her, at least. Still not sold on the rest of you. But I’d do anything for Lydia, and Lydia likes you. So here we are.”

“You feel bad for blackmailing her into marrying you?” Barbara asked. It was the first time he’d ever expressed genuine remorse for anything. Sure, he’d said sorry when he’d crossed a line or several during their first meeting. But that had been more lip service than anything else.

“_Now _ I do,” Beetlejuice nodded, juicing up a cigarette and nearly taking a drag, “You want one?”

“No thanks,” Barbara declined, “I don’t smoke,”

“Why not?” Beetlejuice asked, “Not as if it’ll kill ya at this point,” he cackled at his own joke, “Come on, take a hit, it’ll calm your nerves at the very least.”

It was hard to argue with that logic. So Barbara did. And he was right, it helped wash away some of the anxieties she was currently feeling. Beetlejuice juiced up another for himself and looked at her contemplatively,

“So, you wanna tell me what’s brought all this on?”

“Not really,” Barbara shook her head as she took another drag and slowly released the smoke from inside her mouth, “You’re the last person anyone should be sharing secrets with.”

“True,” Beetlejuice admitted without shame, “But I’ve watched a lot of mortals over the years. And one thing I learned is that the worst sorts of people tend to be the best sympathetic ears. Because I can tell you right now, whatever you’ve done, it ain’t as bad as you think.”

“Isn’t it?” Barbara shot back at him, taking yet another drag before tossing the butt to the ground and stamping it out with her foot, “You got anymore of those?”

Beetlejuice shot her an evil looking grin, “Sure thing Babs,” And another nicotine stick was already lit in her hands. While she took another hit and flicked off the ash he laughed, “See, I was right. You got some evil in ya after all. Now,” with a snap of his fingers the basement was a wet bar and he was tending, “Tell ol’ BJ what’s weighing on those pretty little shoulders of yours,”

Barbara looked at the various bottles of conjured booze and sighed. Alcohol was arguably the real culprit in this massive mistake. But it had taken two, and Barbara had been completely sober when she’d chosen to do what she’d done.

“Oh Beetlejuice,” Barbara lamented, ashing out her cigarette and placing her hands in her arms as she hunched over the bar, “I did something terrible,”

“Something, or some_ one_?” Beetlejuice asked in response, shaking up a martini for the hell of it. When Barbara looked up at him, expression one of shock he chuckled, “Come on Babs, I know the look of someone beating themselves up over a little infidelity. So, who’d ya do it with? Chuck? Delia? I bet it was Delia, she’s done some stuff. Real kinky bitch right there,”

“No it-” Barbara began before stopping herself. Too late though, Beetlejuice caught the implication, “Ah, sneakin’ around with old Chuck then. Can’t say I blame ya, not too bad looking of a breather all things considered. Let me guess, you wanted something different, right?”

Barbara sighed, “How did you guess?”

“He’s nothin’s like Adam, and you’ve been stuck in the house since you died,” Beetlejuice stated, “Stands to reason you’d be a little curious. Specially since he’s been moping about after his dead wife all damn day. I’ve seen the pictures, you two could be twins,”

“Beetlejuice you can’t tell Adam,” Barbara pleaded. God if Adam found out, and from _Beetlejuice_ no less. She couldn't even imagine how terrible everything would be. How much worse it would be than it already was now.

“I can, and I will,” Beetlejuice stated, “Specially if you don’t grow the balls to tell him yourself. Look, I know I don’t know much about the whole bein’ married thing. But how pissed you wanna bet Lyds would be if she found out I cheated on her and _ didn’t _ tell her about it?”

Barbara’s eyes narrowed, “_Have _ you cheated on her?”

“No,” Beetlejuice defended, “Why bother with anyone else when I have Lyds?” he asked her. Noticing the protective glint in her eyes he quickly added, “Look, I ain't touched her once; not before we got married, and not after either. She’s my best friend. My point is, you’re gonna be spending a while with Adam, you really want this to weigh you down the whole time?”

“I… no,” Barbara admitted, “But how do you just go up to someone you loved, cared for, married that you threw everything you had out the window for some momentary pleasure?”

“You don’t,” Beetlejuice advised, “Look, you don’t gotta give him all the down and dirty details -I mean, _ I _ want em in exchange for keepin’ my mouth shut but that’s another thing. Look, you just gotta tell him you did something, don't necessarily tell him _everything_ you did. Adam’s been around long enough to know what Chuckie gets like, he probably wouldn’t be _ too _ mad at you if you tell him upfront.”

“How is it you’re the one with all the wisdom in this situation?” Barbara asked him.

Beetlejuice shrugged, “You spend a few millenia fuckin’ up everything, you learn a thing or two, whether you want to or not.”

Barbara sighed, “You’re right,” she replied, “I hate to admit it, but you’re right. I’ll tell him tomorrow,” she stood and headed back for the stairs, “And Beetlejuice?” she caught his attention, “Thanks for your advice,”

“Don’t mention it Babs,” Beetlejuice waved her off with another cigarette in hand, “Just remember, juicy details, as graphic as possible!”

“Yeah, yeah, you pervert,” Barbara rolled her eyes and headed back upstairs, ignoring his lascivious cackle as it echoed off the walls.

BJ BJ BJ

“Adam,” Barbara took a deep breath. It was the next morning and she was going to try and explain things, if only because she knew Beetlejuice would exaggerate and make the situation worse if she didn’t, “I have something I need to talk with you about,”

“Well sure thing hon,” Adam said, placing an old polishing rag down. Now that it wasn’t his money he was sinking into those projects, nor being hurt by any part of the process he was much more open to restoration as a hobby. It passed the time, of which they had a lot, “What’s on your mind?”

“I…” Barbara felt a lump form in her throat. A move of self-preservation she would assume. And protection, to keep her from hurting him. But she already had, hadn’t she? “Adam I… I did something terrible,” she broke down, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I betrayed you, I betrayed _ us _, and I’m sorry!”

“Barbara,” Adam was surprised and very clearly not prepared for this outburst, “Barbara honey what happened?”

“I… I…” Barbara sniffed, “I… cheated on you,”

Adam was still, and silent a moment, “You… wait _ what_?”

“Charles was having one of his days,” Barbara explained quickly, “He was getting frustrated with Delia and I just wanted to do something nice so I made him a Manhattan and asked if he wanted to talk about it. He started drinking, he thought I was Emily. Adam, he still loves her so much my heart just broke for him. And then he… then _ we _…” she put her hands over her mouth as tears ran down her cheeks, "Oh Adam I'm so sorry!"

“What Barbara?” Adam took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes, “It’s alright. You can tell me, what did you two do?”

“We… kissed,” Barbara admitted. What she should have done then was tell him what had happened _ after _ the kiss. Because a kiss wasn’t all that had happened. But for whatever reason, no more words would come.

“Oh honey,” Adam pulled her in close, “It’s alright. I’ve seen the photos. If he was drunk he probably thought you were Emily. And I know you, you wanted to help comfort him anyway you can. I have to say, I would have been more horrified to hear you kissed Be-” he cut himself off, not wanting to invoke the demon by uttering his name even once, “Anyways, I’m sure you only did what you did because you wanted to be there for him. I can’t be mad at you for that. Does Charles even remember?”

“I… I don’t know,” Barbara confessed, “I left and spent most of the night in the basement feeling horrible about myself.”

“Look,” Adam sighed, “I think you both need to talk about it too. I’m glad you told me Barbara, but this isn’t just about me.”

“Can you…” Barbara bit her lip, “Can you not tell Delia?”

“Don’t you think she should know?”

“No! I mean yes but,” Barbara struggled to explain, “If Charles doesn’t remember it, and it was an accident, do you think we need to needlessly upset her? Adam, I know what _ I _ did. But if Charles thought I was someone else, if that was something he did because he was drunk… you _ know _ how Delia gets. Let me find out first, and if he does, _ then _ we’ll figure out what to do, okay?”

Adam shook his head, but sighed, “Alright Barbara, I’ll trust you.”

It brought tears of guilt to her eyes. But she mustered up the courage to say, “Thanks Adam. I’m gonna go have a _ long _ talk with Charles, have fun with that dresser, okay?”

“I will,” Adam said, waving her off as she hurried downstairs.

BJ BJ BJ

“Charles?” Barbara knocked before stepping through the door. Literally, stepping _ through _ the door, “Do you have a moment?”

“Ah, Barbara,” Charles greeted, standing up from his desk, “Yes of course, what’s the matter?”

“There’s something we need to talk about,” Barbara began, shifting her gaze to the side. It was hard to look at him now. Delia had once confided in Barbara that her new groom was the best she’d ever had. Barbara didn’t have much as a basis for comparison, but she couldn’t deny Charles had been good. _ Very _ good. And now she was trying to talk to him like normal, but all her mind supplied her with was images of how he’d moved over her and worked her over.

“Is it about last night?” Charles asked softly. And Barbara started, when had he gotten that close? Or was he not that close at all and she was just overreacting?

“Yes,” Barbara admitted, “Do you… you drank a lot,” she fiddled with her hands, “I was just wondering if you-”

The snick of the lock from behind her caught her attention. As did the fact that she was caged in by Charles, with his sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms and his hair looking a little mused -as though he’d been running his hands through it- and him leaning over her. Part of her wanted to walk right back through that door, part of her wanted to just throw herself at him, but there was a third part of her, the part that had brought her here, which knew they needed to speak.

“Delia has the worst sense of timing,” Charles said by way of explanation, “And this is a conversation I’m certain we don’t want… _ interrupted_.”

Barbara gulped, “Uh...huh,” it came out breathier than she’d probably intended. And the effect it had on Charles was immediate. Needless to say, there was no talking done. Nothing but soft sounds and gasps and whispers of voices and clothing as it was discarded.

Once could be argued to be a mistake, three times was undeniably a pattern. This couldn’t be counted as either, except for maybe a bad decision. But it was one they made willingly. Charles and Barbara lay on the floor of his study, panting lightly and still recovering.

“I still love her you know,” Charles remarked, “And I’m not just referring to Emily. I mean Delia too,”

“I know,” Barbara said, “I still love Adam too, and last night… you needed Emily.”

“You noticed, didn’t you?” Charles let out a mirthless chuckle, “But I didn’t need her just then. Or even want her. I wanted _ you _ Barbara,”

Barbara sat up, curling into herself, “What does this mean?” she asked, genuinely confused, “I can’t keep doing this to Adam and Delia. But I can’t stop either. Charles, are we bad people?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Charles answered as he too sat up, “If you truly want this to stop, you can just tell me and it will.”

“And until then?” Barbara asked, wondering how all this would play out. Surely, it wouldn’t lead to a happy end.

"Until then," Charles said, taking a solemn breath, “We can't get caught,”


	2. Barbara and Delia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would have had this done sooner but, life stuff, ya know I hate it :)  
Anyways, enjoy!

Unsurprisingly, living in the same house made it incredibly difficult to have an affair. Even if Charles was able to send Delia out for a day of running errands or telling her about a local market that would probably have more crystals, Adam was still stuck in the house. Trysts were therefore limited to any time the two lovers could be _ certain _ their spouses were occupied. Which were times that were few and far between. So they found ways to be with each other, Charles had decided he wanted to take up cooking, and asked Barbara for lessons. It involved a lot of times where Barbara was pressed right up against Charles as he held a knife in his hand. Barbara would spend excessive amounts of time cleaning Charles’ study while he worked. Any other time they wanted with each other was spent more or less platonically, watching tv or working in the same room. Barbara handled his lower days, providing hugs and kisses when necessary. Neither of them expected to catch feelings. And that was what made it even worse.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” Barbara confessed one evening as she just sat in Charles’ lap, “I still love Adam, with all my heart. I love being married to him, I don’t want to get a divorce. I’m still _ in _ love with him,” if she thought of love as being caring for another person combined with sexual attraction, then the argument was very solid that she was still in love with Adam. They still performed the more intimate aspects of being a couple. But it was now an experience she shared with Charles.

“Neither do I,” Charles agreed, “I don’t want to divorce Delia. I still care about her, I still _ love _ her very much. But what should we do? Walk away and pretend this hasn’t been happening?”

“We should,” Barbara admitted, “But I can’t say with conviction that I know we’re going to. Charles I-” Barbara bit her lip.

“Yes?” Charles prompted, looking slightly… hopeful.

“I think I might be falling for you,” Barbara confessed, “I know this is wrong and confusing, and I am still very much in love with my husband but… I think I might love you too.”

Charles was silent a moment, “I think I might be falling for you too,” he admitted, “And that’s why we need to tell them. One way or another, none of us can or _should_ go on like this,”

“How do we tell them?” Barbara asked, looking up at him.

“The same way you break bad news to anyone over the age of eighteen,” Charles answered, “With lots and lots of booze involved.”

BJ BJ BJ

“Delia!” Barbara exclaimed, watching the red head come down into the kitchen. The kitchen was unequivocally Barbara’s space, even though Adam had been more than able to find his own way around back when he’d needed to eat. But Adam was up in the attic, unaware of Charles bringing a bottle of his finest private stock. They’d been experimenting and as it turned out, even though they were ghosts, even though they didn’t _ need _ to eat or drink, they _ could _ if they so chose. Could they really taste anything? No, but the fact that they could drink was helpful in and of itself. There was no telling if they could get drunk or not. But Barbara wasn’t the one dealing with Adam. Charles had decided to be a man and tell Adam himself. Barbara had already done her confession once, and knowing how much Adam loved his wife, he wouldn’t be able to harness any cathartic anger at her.

“Namaste Barbara,” Delia placed her hands together and bowed, her traditional greeting only made Barbara's knowledge of how decidedly _not_ normal everything was twist like a knife in her chest.

“R-right… namaste,” Barbara awkwardly repeated the motion. Quickly she gestured to a bottle of wine on the in kitchen breakfast nook, “Please, sit down,”

“Sit down?” Delia questioned even as she did as she was asked, “Why are you… you _ never _ want to spend time with me.”

“I know,” Barbara winced as she admitted it. Great start to this little conversation, “And I wanted to rectify that starting tonight. So I thought we could have a drink together,”

“A drink?” Delia tilted her head to the side, “Can ghosts even _ get _ drunk?”

“Well…” to be honest, Barbara didn’t know. She’d as furtively as she could managed inquired about such to Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice _ had _ said ghosts could get drunk, but he only knew of it happening with Netherworld liquor. When Barbara had asked if there was any way he could get her a bottle or two, he’d asked what was in it for him. When she’d finally managed to convince him he said it was gonna take some time. And as of yet he hadn’t returned. So mortal wine? She honestly didn’t know if it would.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know if I can get _ drunk_,” Barbara admitted, “But I can drink. It’s better than drinking alone right?”

Delia’s eyes gained a faraway look for just a moment. Her countenance was melancholy, but only briefly. So briefly it was almost imperceivable if you weren’t watching. Because just as quickly she was back to her sunny, bouncy self, “Right, haha,” she laughed unconvincingly, “And I wouldn’t know anything about _ that_.”

Barbara’s smile became a bit more forced. She’d known Delia was unhappy deep down, that the whole new age thing was just a way for her to cope with all the crap life had thrown at her thus far. And if that didn’t make Barbara feel even _ guiltier_, because the one scrap of happiness Delia had found was Charles, and Barbara had been taking that from her behind the other woman’s back for over a month now.

“So…” she asked as awkward silence hung in the air, “How about that drink?”

“Yes please,” Delia replied quickly. Barbara was just working on the cork when there was a pop in the kitchen.

“Hey Babs, Red,” Beetlejuice greeted, holding a brown paper bag in his arms, “Sorry to barge in," his tone made it apparent he was anything _but_, "Hope I’m not intruding. Did we get to the good stuff yet?” he took a look at them both and then continued, “Well, your clothes are still on so I’m gonna have to guess that’s a no.”

“Beetlejuice,” Barbara said through gritted teeth, “What do you want?”

“Hey, hey, woah,” Beetlejuice held out a hand as if to say calm down, “_You’re _ the one who sent me on this godforsaken errand Babs. I can just go and bring this stuff right back to-”

“No!” Barbara quickly interrupted, pausing when she realized she’d stood so fast the chair had flown back a short distance and she was bracing herself on the table in a rather desperate manner. And Delia was looking at her, clearly confused and concerned. Barbara cleared her throat, “I mean, no; that’s… Thank you Beetlejuice, could I please have it?”

Beetlejuice snickered, clearly enjoying his position in all of this, “Sure thing Babs,” he rummaged in the paper bag and brought out a bottle, “Here ya are, Devil’s Blood. T’s not exactly white wine, but if you’re looking to get trashed, that’s one of the best.”

It was a black bottle of wine, with a blood red cork. The label was inscribed with a picture of a pentagram and a writing system Barbara didn’t understand. Wonderful. If the conversation she needed to have with Delia wasn’t so dire, she wouldn’t have even bothered. But given that it was…

“Well then,” Barbara said again, “Thank you Beetlejuice,”

“No problem Babs,” Beetlejuice waved it off, “Now you owe me one. Have fun breaking the news to Red here, I got another delivery to make,” and with another pop he was gone. Barbara should have figured he would have found a way to ruin the buildup. Beetlejuice’s favorite pastime was causing chaos after all.

“Breaking the news?” Delia asked, “What news? Barbara what was he talking about?”

“Why don’t we move this to the living room, shall we?” Barbara asked, barely containing her grumble as she grabbed the wine and the two glasses and left before Delia could answer. What she couldn’t tell was written on the label of the bottle she carried in her hands was, _ ‘Not intended for Mortal Consumption’ _

They sat down on the couch, glasses on the coffee table as Barbara uncorked the wine and poured out two glasses. If her heart had still been working, she would have felt it throbbing in her chest. Even drunk, how was she supposed to just come out and tell the -slightly weird but no less nice- woman she’d been fooling around with her husband. If what Lydia had revealed to her was correct, Delia had already been cheated on once before. If not more, considering neither knew what Delia’s dating history was like. And here Barbara was, doing it all over again. They sipped awkwardly at their wine, Delia all curled up on the couch and comfortable and Barbara proper and not looking at the other woman.

“So,” Delia began, taking another sip, “What exactly did you want to talk to me about?”

“Something I’m not drunk enough to talk about yet,” Barbara answered, tilting her head back and draining the entire glass. The effect was immediate. Wow that wine was strong… or… was it? Barbara’s head felt a little fuzzy, but that could have just been from how fast she’d taken it.

“Well it’s like my guru O-” Delia began only to cut herself off and mimic Barbara’s actions.

Barbara refilled both of their glasses, feeling a little more comfortable now that she had a slight diversion tactic besides just boozing Delia up, “How long did you spend under his… tutelage?” she asked, “Seems like a while.”

“Well, after my first husband left me about… eight? Eight years ago or so I was desperately trying to find my place in the world. Work, spiritual enlightenment, none of it had a place for me,” Delia explained, swirling the liquid around in the glass before taking another sip, “Bhuddism, Hinduism, no one wanted me. And then I met O- Kevin. I was his first disciple in a long time, that was what he told me anyways. And he seemed to have all the answers, and he _ wanted _ me, spiritually I mean. I followed his guidance for about five years,”

“Oh no,” Barbara said, taking another sip, “That’s terrible, five years is a long time. That was like... a relationship in itself.”

“It’s a terrible thing,” Delia said, “To have been so foolishly blind for so long. I have to wonder if, part of me _ knew _ I was being deceived by him but couldn’t bear to leave because if I did I’d have no one. But I don’t need him anymore,” Delia declared, polishing off her glass, “I have all of you now,”

“All… of us?” Barbara questioned, taking the bottle and refilling Delia’s glass, “Ah, maybe we should slow down. You’re on your third glass already,”

“Am I?” Delia looked down at the liquid and snorted, beginning to laugh uproariously, “Oh goodness I think I am! Isn’t that funny!”

As Barbara finished her own she could start to see the humor in the situation. Three glasses already, wasn’t it funny how fast wine flew? Wine… flying? And then she began giggling all over again.

“But what about you?” Delia asked, suddenly seeming very sober and serious, “You ever have anyone in your life like that?”

“Me, I guess?” Barbara offered, “I… Lately I’ve been starting to wonder if I’m a terrible person,”

“Wha- why?” Delia asked, scooching closer on the couch, “You’re so sweet!”

_ ‘Not sweet enough to keep from sleeping with your husband’ _ Barbara thought as she filled the wine glasses yet again.

“Well,” Barbara began with a long suffering sigh, “I’ve been cooped up in the house for so long… and I found myself desperate for something, _ anything _ to change for me. I started looking back on my life and realizing, there were so many chances, so many opportunities I never took because I was afraid of how it might make other people see me. Now, I’m full of regret, wishing I _ had _ taken the change. Regret doing it instead of not, you know? And don’t get me wrong, I love Adam, so much, but he’s…” she blushed to admit it, “He’s the only one I’ve ever been with, you know, _ in that way _.”

“_Oh_,” Delia nodded sagely, “I get it, so you regret not being a little more adventurous?”

“I guess,” Barbara said, this time being the one to finish her wine. She set the glass down, determined not to refill it. That last one had felt like a punch to the gut, or a kick in the head. Something that had just slammed into her and now the world beyond her own person looked and felt like it was tilting, spinning, in other words, acting every way _ except _ the way it was supposed to.

“Well… don’t,” Delia advised, polishing off her glass and setting it down as well, “You chose the path you felt was right for you. And you didn’t start regretting it until the opportunity was no longer there. I can tell you, not every experience leaves you feeling more open and confident,”

“But… how much of that was the path that was right for me, and how much of it was me thinking of how other people would think of me if they ever found out,” Barbara bemoaned, “I had the same realization when I looked at some of the old junk in the attic, so many years wasted on unfulfilling hobbies and half finished projects that got abandoned. And for what? Them to sit there, just like my life had!”

“Do you think you’re attracted to women?” Delia asked bluntly.

“Wha…?”

“Are you, attracted to women?” Delia repeated slowly, voice thick and tongue slow because of her state of intoxication.

“I… I don’t know,” Barbara admitted, “I mean, I’ve always thought other women were pretty. But… I’m not pretty enough to be attractive _ to _ other women,”

“What, no!” Delia countered. Her head was lolling to the side slightly, so she braced it with an arm on the back of the couch, legs curled up underneath her, “Listen to me, no you… listen.” she put a finger against Barbara’s lips when she thought the other woman was going to protest, “Listen to me Barbie, I… have done some… stuff; in my time as a free spirit. Believe me, you’re pretty, you’re so pretty…” her eyes were glassy and she pulled her finger back in surprise, “And your lips, they’re so soft!”

“No, no,” Barbara ducked and shook her head, “I’m not that pretty,”

“No, no you _ are_,” Delia insisted, scooching closer yet, “You _ are_,”

“I’m not as pretty or glamorous as you,” Barbara countered. If she was pretty, in her mind it was in the manner of most small town girls. Delia, for all her new age eccentricities, had the poise and relative composure of a glamorous New York City Jetsetter.

“No,” Delia said firmly, taking Barbara’s face in her hands and seriously insisting, “You are _ so pretty_.” and then she got distracted again, “You have pretty eyes,” she said with a carefree smile. Carefree it may have been, but it was no less sincere.

Barabra felt the sensation she had once upon a time associated with blushing rise up in her cheeks. Along with that warmth, that self same warmth. God how she missed that warmth. The warmth of life and light and happiness. And here was a gorgeous city woman telling _ her _ she was beautiful, that she had pretty eyes? Was it the booze that gave her the courage to respond in kind? Or was it a deeper part of herself she’d heretofore never allowed to surface?

“Your eyes are gorgeous,” she informed Delia, watching the blush rise on the other woman’s face. Delia’s gorgeous eyes then darkened, with an emotion she'd seen in Charles’ eyes when he wanted her to kiss him and take her clothes off and find fulfillment of what was potentially the unholiest kind.

Delia’s grip on her face firmed, not painfully, but enough to make Barbara forget for a moment that she was no longer alive. She certainly _ felt _ alive, the memory of painful heart pounding reverberation, excitement, anticipation thrumming through her body. And then, lips were on hers. Soft, warm, yielding. Barbara melted, her hands sliding up Delia’s arms to curl over her shoulders and into her hair. Delia’s hands slid down Barbara’s neck, twining themselves around her body and pulling them closer together.

There was no sense in comparing Delia to Charles to Adam. All of them were different people. But Delia was different in part because she was a woman. Her lips and skin were softer by nature (and a very strict organic moisturizing regimen) and her delicate hands had a surer touch for a first time than either Charles or Adam had. Both men had grown used to the form of the female body, Delia knew it like the back of her hand.

By the time Barbara knew what was happening again she was resting on the back of the couch, the tops of her and Delia’s dresses were open, and the latter’s hand was cupping her chest through her bra. And the surreal ness of the situation was… sobering to say the least. What on earth was she _ doing_? Delia was braced above her on one hand, panting harshly. There was exertive sweat making her bangs and the loose bits of her hair cling to her face. Her makeup was smeared and her lips were swollen.

Barbara reaches a hand up and cupped Delia’s face. Her eyes were dark. Was it because of the booze? Barbara still felt a little buzzed but nowhere near as intoxicated as she'd been before. At least, not off the wine. Delia turned her face to kiss at the other woman’s palm, and then turned her eyes back to Barbara,

“Do you trust me?” Her voice was soft, hoarse, pleading.

“I-” Barbara’s own voice was just as ragged. How could she answer that? How could she tell Delia she trusted her? How could she follow along with what the intention clearly was.

“Yes or no,” Delia whispered against her lips. She was so close, so warm, so intoxicating. Barbara couldn’t speak. Her throat closed up and all she could do was nod.

Delia’s hand reached for Barbara’s, and suddenly she was all boisterous energy and vivacity again, “Well then,” she grinned mischievously, “Let’s go!”

The women rushed off up the stairs, storming past Lydia’s room and causing her to open her door and look out curiously into the hallway. All she saw was a door slamming shut. Not thinking anything of it she shrugged, closing the door and going back to doing her own thing. That thing’s name being Beetlejuice.

“This is…” Barbara began as she looked around. The color scheme looked familiar, as though she’d been in this room before. Well of _ course _ she had, back when they’d used this room as a guest room for visiting in-laws.

“My room,” Delia answered, “At least, it _ was_, until Charles and I-” she cut herself off. Now was not the time to speak of spouses, not when they knew what they wanted, “Barbara,”

“Are we wrong?” Barbara asked, “Are we wrong for doing this?”

“If it’s how you feel?” Delia asked in reply, “Then how can it be wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Barbara turned away, wrapping her arms around herself and casting her gaze to the floor. The happy buzz was wearing thin with the mention. Even feelings didn’t seem to justify what she had almost- what she still _ wanted _ to do, “All my life, I was told-”

“Yes,” Delia gently broke in, “But you’re not alive anymore. Those rules, they can’t hurt you, unless you let them,” she was thoughtfully silent a moment before speaking again, “I want this, I want _ you_, but I am willing to take this only as far as you want it to go. And if that means it stops here, then I will do what makes you happy.”

Barbara was sobering, but she wasn’t sober. And she felt cold, so _ cold_. Was it wrong to want that warmth back, for just a moment? Wasn’t that why she had allowed it to go so far with Charles? And wasn’t it flattering? Two members of New York royalty interested in a plain girl next door like her? The idea was laughable, and yet, here it was.

“Be gentle,” Barbara said, turning so Delia could wrap her in an embrace.

“Of course,” Delia promised, reaching for the light.

BJ BJ BJ

Barbara woke the next morning with a throbbing headache. Ugh, no more ghost booze for her, _ ever_. But just as quickly as she felt it, it faded. Apparently one of those "perks" Beetlejuice had mentioned once upon a time was no lingering hangover. She was laying on her side, decidedly less undressed than she normally was for bed. And speaking of beds, this one was not hers. Barbara rolled over to see Delia curled up next to her, arm thrown protectively over her waist. Oh gods, last night, they had… Barbara quickly lifted the covers and heaved a sigh of relief. Her underwear was still on, so things hadn’t gone _ too _ far, at least not that fast. She heard Delia stir, and turned back over. The sounds associated with stretching and waking met her ears, but even as Delia’s arm raised off of her for the stretch, it came right back down where it was, contented to stay there. And Barbara hated herself for how much she liked it. Last night’s Barbara was a creation of guilt and booze, she was already holding onto the fact that she and Charles had been sneaking around behind Delia and Adam’s back. And now…

Barbara sat up, swinging her legs over the bed and resting her elbows on her thighs, face buried into her hands with shame. It was bad enough she’d cheated with Charles even _ once _, worse still that she'd continued to do it, and now… gods if her old friends could have seen her now. She could imagine the sorts of words they had for her. Slut, whore, lecherous jezebel, the list went on. Barabra was now the sort of woman all those sunday school bible thumpers had whispered disdainfully and clutched their fake pearls about. A loose woman, no morals, willing to defile the sanctity of the god-given institution of marriage. So many years of such indoctrination had made Barbara a little less warm to her faith, but no more immune to the propaganda.

Arms slid over her shoulders and curled around her, knees and thighs braced on either side of her hips. Delia hugged her from behind, resting her head atop Barbara’s own. There was nothing but silence for a moment. Silence punctuated only by the quiet sound of Delia’s breathing. The sound of life, and goodness. Such things which Barbara had tainted.

“You’re regretting it, aren’t you?” Delia asked, voice soft and concerned. Though there was some pain to it, the pain that accompanied all rejection even as a person strove to rise above their personal feelings and be supportive, there was also genuine concern for the other’s wellbeing.

“Not in the way you might be thinking,” Barbara replied quietly, just allowing herself to be held. Soaking up that warmth she craved like an addict craves the next hit of their vice. Warmth that was no longer hers to savor.

“Your marriage,” Delia said knowingly, and Barbara had recalled that even though she’d been a life coached, she had some psychological training.

“I regret how much my desire has hurt the people I’m supposed to care about. And I _ do _ care about them, but I can’t… is this self-destructive behavior? Is there some hidden evil that I just decided I couldn’t ignore? _ Why _ am I doing this Delia? Can you tell me?” Barbara pleaded.

“I don’t have all the answers,” Delia said, “No one does, and no one can. If your feelings are telling you that what you want out of your existence has changed, then it isn’t wrong. Sure, your actions might not always have been the right way to explore it. But hey,” Barbara felt the shrug, “We’re only human after all. All we can do is own up to them and face the consequences.”

“I…” Barbara began, yet again uncertain as to how to express herself, “Delia I don’t regret _ what _ we did, what we shared, it was...”

“Transcendental?” Delia offered, “I felt that way too.”

“But Adam,” Barbara lamented, “Oh god if he could see me now, like this… what would he think of me? I still love him,”

“Just because we shared a night doesn’t mean you love him any less,” Delia soothed, “If you want to try and put things back the way they were, I can do that. Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know,” Barbara sighed, feeling the tears well in her eyes, “But I have to try,”

“Alright then, if that’s what you want,” Delia acquiesced, very easily all things considered, “Just answer me one thing first,”

“Which is?”

“Who was better?” Delia asked, leaning in to clarify, “Me, or Charles?”

Barbara froze. And had she been alive guilt and shame would have caused all the blood to rise to her face. But Delia didn’t seem mad… of course Barbara couldn’t tell for sure because the redhead was still behind her. But Delia’s arms were still loose and loving around her. But Beetlejuice had been deceived by physical affection once. Barbara would be twice the fool if she did the same.

“You-” she stuttered, absolutely horrified, “You _ knew _?”

“I may be a little flighty,” Delia replied, “But I’m not stupid. Besides,” she shrugged again, “It wasn’t exactly that hard to figure out,”

“H-How?”

“Charles is, as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, a… creature of habit. He likes things a certain way, and is used to doing them a certain way. It’s very odd for him to… incorporate new tricks let’s say. But that was what he was doing when we were having sex. At first I wondered who he might have been able to find and keep a secret from a small town like this, considering all the time he’d been spending at home. But then I remembered. The photo album, Lydia’s pictures, and Emily.”

“That was what started this whole thing,” Barbara admitted, “I just wanted to be there for him. I thought nothing more than a kiss wouldn’t be so bad. But then… it just got out of control,”

“He’s very good at pleasing a woman, isn’t he?” Barbara could hear the conspiratorial smile in the other woman’s voice, “But, not as good as another woman, right?”

Could she blush if she was just a manifestation of her soul’s energy? At the moment Barbara certainly _ felt _ as though she could.

“So you’re not mad?”

“Only a little,” Delia answered, “I wish you would have been open with me about this. I understand, Charles is a man with a lot of love to give, and for a long time not nearly enough people to give it to. You fulfil a need of his that I can’t, and vice versa. And… I like you,” she leaned in and nibbled on Barbara’s ear, “I like you a _ lot_. And so does Lydia, I have to admit you're a much better mother to her than I am. And Adam helps Charles be a better father. So I guess what I'm asking is; can’t we all be in this, _together_? Like a family, a real family?”

“But…” Barbara weakly protested, finding it hard to think as Delia’s lips swiftly moved down her neck, “But Adam-”

“Probably isn’t so averse to this as you might think he is,” Delia soothed, “Can’t we talk it all over at least?”

“I… I wanted to tell you, last night,” Barbara said through a soft moan, “I hated keeping this from you,”

“Serves you right,” Delia teased, sliding one strap down a shoulder and peppering kisses at the bared skin, “Though I assume that’s why Charles wanted to spend some time with Adam as well?” there was no answer other than a soft gasp, “Come on Barbie,” Delia cajoled, “Doesn’t it excite you? The thought of all of us, _ together_?”

Barbara had to admit that it did. And she was just moments away from verbalizing it when the door slammed open. Both women froze, looking over to the source of the noise. And in the doorway was -surprise, surprise- Beetlejuice, looking as cocky and smarmy as ever.

“Well, well, well,” he remarked as he looked the two of them over, “I may have missed last night’s show, but the encore’s starting early, ain’t it?” he cackled at his own joke, “Too bad, bet _ that _ was a lot more entertaining than what went on upstairs,”

“Upstairs?” the women chorused, equally confused. Beetlejuice’s smirk just grew wider,

“I suppose I _ could _ tell you,” he offered, “If you let me watch the encore,”

Barbara blanched, scrambling for a blanket to cover herself with. Meanwhile Delia used her time in community theatre to project her voice, “Lydia!”

“What?” Lydia called back, clearly still a little groggy.

“Put a collar on your pet husband if you would please,”

“Why?”

“I’ll keep pastels out of your closet for the next six months!”

“Beetlejuice, why the hell are you bothering Delia?”

“Oh Babes,” he grinned evilly as he rubbed his palms together, “You just _ gotta _ get a load of this,”

“If it involves my stepmother, you sounding like a kid in a candy store, and she hasn’t screamed already, I don’t wanna know. Now get your striped ass back in here or else,”

“Or else what?” Beetlejuice called back, only inclining his head so Lydia could hear him without breaking his little one sided staring contest.

“You know,” Lydia remarked casually, “That cute preppy girl from history class _ did _ ask me out the other day. I might just agree to a date, and _ you _ can stay at home that night.”

“Wha-” and now he looked invested, “You’d really leave me behind the night of a prep-goth chick date?”

“I’m more than tempted with the threat of pastels in my wardrobe looming over my head,” was Lydia’s response.

Beetlejuice grumbled for a moment, but he never could deny Lydia, “Fine!” he called, “But you better make good if you decide to go on that date!” and he popped out of sight. Barbara and Delia looked at one another, questioning the oddity of what had just happened.

And then his words reverberated, “What do you suppose he meant by ‘the one upstairs’?” Barbara asked.

They looked at each other again before scrambling to find their clothes. Once dressed, they headed up to the attic, pausing at the door. Slowly, slowly, it creaked open and they peeked inside. Nothing _ seemed _ out of the ordinary. The hideaway bed was still hidden. So what had happened? Quiet as they could manage Barbara and Delia crept over to the couch. Lying there, fast asleep and probably sleeping off a killer hangover was Charles. And curled up, snuggled against him was Adam. Both men had their shirts partially unbuttoned, and Barbara could make out hickeys on Charles’ neck that neither she nor Delia could have put there.

“Well, well, well,” Delia remarked, seeming more amused than mad, “Now how did _ that _ happen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know your thoughts. I promise even though I don't respond to them it's not because I don't appreciate them, I'm just real bad at remembering to do that. Thank you from the bottom of my black little heart, thank you for reading my work. Until next time my netherlings!


	3. Charles and Adam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, probably one more chapter after this and then we'll be done. But we'll see. No promises. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Normally when he was in control of a situation, Charles Deetz was invincible. Theoretically, this should have been the same. He was the one who had asked Adam about his restoration process, claiming he had wanted to get a look and see if it was a hobby he'd want to pick up for himself. It wasn't that difficult a ruse to concoct, since Adam knew how he loved to turn a profit and those antiques Adam had already taken the time to restore had brought in quite a nice price from collectors. Even so, Charles did _ not _ feel in control.

With Barbara well, she was so sweet and unassuming it was easy to forget she was a ghost. Even the rare times she lost her temper in front of the others, resorting to paranormal tricks simply wasn't something she did. The same could be said for Adam as well -Beetlejuice was really the _ only _ supernatural member of their household who did so- but men had killed and been killed on the cause of infidelity. Known to lose their tempers in a fit of black out rage and oftentimes momentary insanity. Such a cocktail could fell a normal man, and while Adam _ seemed _ normal, acted normal and proclaimed himself to _ be _ normal; something like this, it could push him over the edge. Human hands had been stained with blood. What could a normal, unassuming man with the powers of death and potentially hell do to him?

Hell, now wasn't _ there _ another thing to worry about? Adam may or may not have had control over the extent of his supernatural powers. Adam may or may not even have been aware of what the full extent of those powers _ were _ . But that probably didn't matter much when he had a demon on his side. Beetlejuice might have been “married” (the thought _ still _ makes him retch) to his daughter. According to Delia he might have had more than a passing interest in his daughter. But Charles had heard. The pinching, the groping, the flat out sexual harassment. He honestly didn't know if Beetlejuice had done it just to get the other man’s goat or if they're had been some sort of genuine attraction -probably not considering how willing the demon had been to get rid of the ghost multiple times if it meant having Lydia- but Charles was certain of one thing; Beetlejuice liked Adam more, and would be more than willing to take the man's side should things come to blows. Although, Charles hadn’t _ seen _ Beetlejuice around the past couple of days. Barbara had mentioned something about seeing if she could find out if ghosts could get drunk. Maybe there was a slight bit of hope? Charles didn't know anymore. And he wondered if he'd be seeing divorce papers soon after this evening.

BJ BJ BJ

He knocked at the attic door, trying to respect the space the Maitlands had claimed for their own. It reminded him of some of those one room studio apartments he'd seen while dealing in real estate back in New York. But then the Maitlands didn't need to worry about human issues like eating or disposing of the waste that eating created. Or sleep, but they liked to do that anyways, helped them keep a sense of normalcy they'd said.

“Come in!” Charles heard Adam call from behind the door. We're his hands trembling? Maybe a little bit but Charles would never in this life or the next admit it.

He walked inside to see Adam busy with a paint brush and a jar of something that smelled, not like paint. The dresser was mostly sanded, glossy in a few spots where the substance had likely been applied.

“Hey Charles,” Adam greeted over his shoulder, “Don't mind me, just trying to get this one last little section done here-”

“I mean, Charles offered, “That dresser’s for an important client isn't it? I'd hate for them to get upset because I dragged you away from your work. I'm sure even my presence here is distracting. You know, I think I'd better just go, we can do this another time-”

“No please,” Adam said, “I'm done, and honestly I could use the break.”

Well, there went his chances of avoiding his responsibilities like a _ normal _ adult. Damn. Charles took a seat on the couch and set the liquor to the side. Despite how badly he wanted to just take a swig straight from the bottle, he knew Adam was the one who’d need it more. Adam finished cleaning up and joined Charles on the couch.

“I know you said you wanted to watch the process, but something’s telling me you just wanted an excuse to talk to me without anyone else, right?”

Charles was barely holding back panic. Could Adam have figured out _ why _ Charles wanted to talk to him? If so, he was being awfully calm. And so were serial killers, or those without a soul when it came to exacting revenge. All the power tools were away, and Charles couldn’t see Adam being the sort to hide a knife on him. But Adam was also a ghost with all the ghostly abilities that designation entailed.

“I…” Charles cleared his throat on hearing how nervous he sounded, “How did you guess?”

“I thought you might have noticed it too…” Adam began, “What with Barbara wanting to talk with Delia tonight…”

“Yes, well…”

“I’m sure you noticed it too, how she’s been acting,”

“Well that’s- I mean, that is to say,”

“I just didn’t think it would have been possible,”

“Now Adam, I know you must be-”

“I mean, our wives? Seeing each other, behind our _ backs?_” Adam let out a mirthless breath of laughter, “I just didn’t think it would be possible.”

Charles’ brain short circuited. He. She. They. _ What_? Adam honestly thought, that Barbara and Delia were… okay, maybe not the best time to let his thoughts meander down that road. But seriously, what would honestly make Adam believe _ that _ to be the plausible alternative?

“I… what?”

“Oh,” Adam seemed surprised, “Did you not notice? I mean, I suppose it would be hard. You and Delia haven’t been married that long after all. But Barbara and I… well, she’s been, different. Not that her being different is a bad thing,” Adam was quick to assure the other man, “But she seems… conflicted.”

“Do you, ahem,” Charles cleared his throat, “Do you know _ why _ she may be acting this way?”

“Well…” Adam paused and thought it over, “I think it’s because… well, I’m sure you’ve noticed by now. Winter River isn’t exactly New York City,”

“No…” Charles agreed. That had been part of why he liked it. It had been so different from the world that had changed so much and not at all with Emily’s death. So simple, so peaceful, it had at first seemed the perfect place to rebuild his broken world and broken family. How wrong he had been, in both the best and the worst ways, “It’s not.”

“It’s a very small town,” Adam continued, “And the folks here, well they’re nice enough, but they have a very ‘that’s the way things have always been done’ mentality about them. They don’t really like change, and they weren’t really… _ accepting _ of people who didn’t follow that ideology. I guess I’m just wondering if Barbara felt as though she needed to hide or repress who she was this whole time. And if that’s why she didn’t want to tell me,”

“I…” Charles didn’t know what to say to any of that. So instead he relied on the age old trick to boosting confidence and making people brave enough to do the things they normally didn’t want to do, “How about a drink?” he asked, already reaching for the bottle.

“Oh, I’d love one,” Adam perked up immediately. Then just as quickly deflated, “Except, ghosts can’t get drunk off mortal alcohol.”

Charles raised a brow, “They can’t?”

“It’s some weird ghost biology thing,” Adam explained, “I once… trying to be cordial, I asked Beetlejuice if he wanted some wine with his dinner. He told me ghosts -and demons I guess- can’t get drunk off mortal booze. Something about it being made to affect the body and not the spirit? I obviously didn’t believe him, since he’s lied to us before. But it’s true, ghosts can drink human wine and not feel anything,” he looked a little despondent at the thought, “I miss being able to drink,”

“Well… hey,” Charles said picking up the bottle and the two glasses he’d brought, “How about a shot for old times sake? I know you can’t get anything out of doing it but-”

“The routine would be nice,” Adam nodded. Charles had only just uncorked the bottle when, with his usual timing, Beetlejuice burst in.

“Special delivery for a Mister Charles Deetz!” he announced, bringing over a plain brown bag, “Hey, how’s it going Sexy?”

Adam tensed immediately. Charles couldn’t blame him. He didn’t feel comfortable having the demon poltergeist thing around either. He liked it even less that Lydia _ chose _ to hang out with him. But wallowing over that had been what had started this whole mess in the first place.

“What are you doing here Beetlejuice?” Adam’s question was stilted, curiosity probably stunted by the thought that he was probably better off not knowing.

“Wow,” Beetlejuice replied, “I’m gone for three days and _ this _ is the sort of welcome I come home to? Harsh,”

“Well,” Charles added, folding his arms, “This is meant to be a _ private _ conversation,”

“What?” Beetlejuice looked between the two of them and snorted, “You guys gonna start making out if someone’s not here?”

“What!” the men explained, Charles a little too angry to notice the slight flush to Adam’s cheeks.

“Ooh, did I hit a nerve there?” Beetlejuice taunted, “Sorry fellas, didn’t mean to shatter your fragile masculinity y’know,”

“Like you’re any more progressive,” Adam shot back, “You think sexual harassment is okay!”

“Only with a select few too hot to leave alone,” Beetlejuice winked, “Anyways, I came bearing a gift, special request from old Chuckie. But…” he added, turning around, “I suppose I could always take it back to the Netherworld, ghost booze really isn’t for the faint of heart-”

“WAIT!” Charles exclaimed, quickly standing up, “How much do you want?”

“Fifty dollars,” Beetlejuice immediately replied, “Or to watch this happen, whatever you’re willing to pay.”

“How about I stop being so…” Charles sighed, hating himself for what he was about to say but Lydia would surely not begrudge him for saying it, “Disapproving of your association with my daughter?”

“I love how you think that affected me in any way,” Beetlejuice remarked, “But fine, I’ll take that and a favor from you. Now we’re square; here’s your booze,” he reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of brown liquor.

“What is it?” Adam asked, looking at it uncertainly.

“Hellfire Whiskey,” Beetlejuice explained, “Have fun with that. And Charles, be gentle with him okay? Adam’s so fragile you know,”

“Don’t you have something better to do?” Adam asked testily, clearly angry and embarrassed by the insinuation Beetlejuice had just made.

“Correction Sexy,” Beetlejuice countered, “I have some_one _ better to do. It’s been a few days, wonder if Lydia’s broken out her little toy yet,” he leered, “You know, it’s got stripes on it too, not as impressive, but still flattering-”

“WHY YOU-!” Charles shouted, lunging for empty air as, with a cackle, Beetlejuice disappeared. He turned back to Adam, “That guy…” he muttered disdainfully,

“Has a lot of issues,” Adam agreed, “I’ve _ tried _ to tell him to go see a shrink, or a therapist, or _ someone _ who might be able to help him. He’s laughed in my face every time. I think he _ enjoys _ being that twisted.”

“Oh well,” Charles grumbled, “At the moment he’s the only one who can freely travel between this world and the next. So, I suppose we ought to pour a toast to that,” he grabbed the bottle of Hellfire whiskey and poured out two shots, “To that striped bastard, may he get what’s coming to him eventually, just like his charming mother,”

“Amen,” Adam agreed, picking up the glass and tossing it back like a pro. What he wasn’t able to do like a pro, however, was keep from coughing as the whiskey burned down his throat. He’d never been much of a whiskey man in life either, so it wasn’t surprising how he reacted.

Charles hesitated with his shot though, waiting to see how it would affect the other man. Adam shivered as he set his shot glass down, still coughing a little.

“Wow,” Adam remarked, shaking his head, “That is… _ strong_,”

“Would you like another?” Charles asked, offering up his own shot glass. Even just two shots in might make Adam a little more susceptible to hearing the bad news he had to deliver. What was he even hoping the outcome might be? That Adam and Delia would just be _ okay _ with Charles and Barbara seeing each other while still being married to their spouses?

“Sure!” Adam replied, smiling brightly. Were his eyes..? No, he couldn’t get buzzed after just one drink, could he? Then again, Adam didn’t have a “physical” body. So maybe alcohol, especially alcohol intended for ghosts, affected them differently? But Charles wordlessly handed over his glass and watched Adam down that one too. Adam handed back the glass and immediately flopped into the back of the couch, “Woah,” he put a hand to his head, “That made me a little dizzy,” he hiccuped, “This stuff is _ good_,”

“Right…” Charles agreed, pouring another shot before recalling that Adam’s lips had been on both of them. Would it be gay to drink from the same glass? Well he’d only brought two so there wasn’t really any other option. Discreetly as he could Charles wiped off the rim of his glass while sliding the other shot to Adam to drink at his leisure, “Now,” Charles began as he tossed back his own shot, “What’s all this about Barbara and Delia being an item?”

“Barbara has these sort of… tics about her,” Adam explained, “She’s very bad at hiding things from me, especially if she knows I’ll be hurt when I find out. You should have seen the way she acted when she was trying to tell me she’d kissed you,”

“She told you that?” Charles was surprised, he hadn’t recalled Barbara mentioning it. Not that there had been much talking going on while they rendezvoused for many of their trysts.

“She felt horrible about it,” Adam continued, “She wouldn’t keep it from me if anything else had happened, you wouldn’t either, would you?”

“I…” Charles quickly looked down and saw the shot glass was empty, “How about another?” he poured a fourth shot and handed it to Adam, taking a second, then a third of his own in quick succession.

“I mean… why wouldn’t she?” Adam asked no one in particular, beginning to slur his speech as the ghostly liquor took firmer and firmer hold of him, “I would understand completely if she did.”

“Oh would you now?” Charles said, slightly overfilling his next shot and dribbling a little as he brought it to his lips.

“Yeah, we built our relationship on trust. But if she can’t tell me… then she must be doing something with someone else,” Adam waved his hand around, tilting it in Charles’ direction for a refill, “And since we can’t leave the house, and B- our little _ guest _ would have no appeal for either of us, it had to be Delia. That’s the only logical solution isn’t it?”

“Is it really though?” Charles asked. The alcohol was giving him the courage to say what his concern for the other man wouldn’t, “There isn’t _ any _ other conclusion you could come to?”

“None,” Adam proclaimed, “Other than…” his voice petered out as realization slowly seemed to dawn, “No…”

Well, this was it, now or never. And Charles could feel his own heart break for the pain he was about to cause the other man, the one he considered a friend. And the one he had so cruelly betrayed, “Yes,” his own voice was a broken whisper, “Adam I’m so sorry, I… we never _ meant _ for this to happen,”

Adam’s reaction, out of all the ones Charles had worried and fretted over, was not at all the one he expected. Adam immediately lunged for the bottle of booze and started chugging it as though he were a dying man in need of water. Charles didn’t know what to make of it, other than that while he was taking it a bit better than expected, this was still most assuredly a _ bad _ thing. He reached for the bottle, only just managing to wrestle it out of Adam’s desperate hands. But Adam kept reaching for it, until eventually the only thing Charles felt he could do was polish off the bottle and throw it into the wall. The crash was deafening, even though it didn’t leave the attic at all. And Adam’s hands began to beat ineffectually at Charles’ chest,

“Why?” he asked without clear direction as he began to sob, “Why? Why? _ Why_?”

And Charles felt his heart break further. Adam was a kind and decent man, far better a man and a father figure than Charles himself had been in a long time. And to have caused this man pain, to have broken him so utterly… Charles felt lower than low, even… ugh, even _ Beetlejuice _ had never made a move on one of them in private. And here Charles was, stealing his friend’s wife off for trysts. And for what? Because she reminded him of his dead wife? Because there was a part of her that fulfilled a need in him that Delia just _ couldn’t_? Because he couldn’t learn to let go, and accept that Emily hadn’t stuck around for whatever her reasoning had been?

“I wish I could tell you,” Charles said, placing a hand on Adam’s shoulder as the man began to just breakdown, “She reminds me so much of Emily, I… I thought it was enough to have it once, to pretend. But I wanted more, I acted selfishly, and without regards to the sanctity of your vows or my own. Adam, I’m sorry. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness for what I’ve done, but I wanted to tell you, so you _ could _ be mad at me, because that _ is _ what I deserve.”

Adam raised up on his arms, and Charles suddenly seemed to realize the precarious position they were in, him laid back on the cushions of the couch with Adam braced up over him. Adam was silent, simply staring at the man below him. And then he sighed, a pained smile on his face,

“I get it,”

“What?”

“I get why she did it,” Adam leaned in a little closer, until their noses were almost touching, “You’re so good looking,”

“Um…” Charles didn’t know what to say. The compliment was flattering, but even in the middle of a progressive city, he still had had a very conservative upbringing, which meant he didn’t really know how to handle a situation like this, “Thank you?”

Was Adam drunk? He had to be drunk. He’d had at least four shots, plus a good chunk of whiskey straight from the bottle. And now that he was considering it, Charles wasn’t feeling all that sober himself. What was _ in _ that bottle? It had smelled like whiskey, it had _ tasted _ like whiskey. But it was whiskey for the dead, so what had they _ made _ it out of?

Adam’s eyes kept flicking from Charles’ own to his lips. Oh no, he knew what the other man was thinking. And it wasn’t that Charles didn’t believe in love, he believed that two people of consenting age who wanted to be together should be able to be together without any restrictions. However, there was still that little voice in his head. The voice of countless sunday school lessons saying “this is wrong, this is a sin, you’ll burn in hell for this,”

“Is it the same, do you know?” Adam asked, “I’ve never kissed another man, aside from-” and he cut himself off, “But that… whether he initiated it or I did, it felt so… gross.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Charles answered warily, scooting up a little so his head was propped up on the armrest. It put Adam’s mouth in closer to proximity to his own, but at least he didn’t feel as trapped as he had before, “I’ve never kissed another man before,”

“Have you never been curious?” Adam asked, eyes dark and kind of unfocused.

“I can’t say that I have, have you?”

“Not until recently,” Adam gave a shy grin, “I… I want to know, would it always be as uncomfortable as it was with…”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Charles knew what Adam was trying to say without saying the words. Could this be his penance? There was no undoing what he’d been doing with Barbara. Allowing Adam to explore his sexuality with him despite his own discomfort wouldn’t erase his sins, but he could begin to atone.

“M-May I?” Adam asked, “Please, I just want to know… I want to know if it’s always going to be like that, or if…”

“You never got to know,” Charles nodded sympathetically, “I get it. If you want it, I’m not going to stop you.”

Charles closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see what decision Adam reached. He was afraid. Because he didn’t know what he would have preferred. To have Adam be mad at him for all of eternity, or to find out something about himself at this stage of his life he wasn’t sure he was ready to accept. He was a straight man, while he supported the gays, he didn’t want to _ be _ one. Never had he experience attraction to another man, never, it was…

Cold. The sensation of forever frozen lips melting against his own. And to be quite honest, it didn’t feel any different than kissing Delia or Barbara or even Emily. Was it just because it was only a kiss? Charles didn’t know what to think. Adam, much like his wife, forgot that humans still needed to breathe. Charles was getting dizzy between the liquor and the lack of oxygen. And despite that, or maybe _ because _ of it, the kiss felt… good. A soft hand at Adam’s shoulder let them break so Charles could breathe again. But he still didn’t dare open his eyes. He felt the hand at his cheek, and with the mercy of his voluntary blindness it was easy to pretend the calloused palms belonged to a hardworking woman. The lips so soft by contrast. The smooth but strong jaw that he cupped was a female. Even as that part of his mind that sounded like one of the nuns at his old church screamed that this was wrong and that he shouldn’t be doing it. But god could forgive him a kiss, right? Was there even a god that _ needed _ to grant forgiveness? Charles had seen what happened when one died. There was no god, no heaven, no hell -at least not in the way he’d been taught to envision it. There was just, nothing. So what was wrong here? And yet, that voice. That voice, that voice, that voice. But louder still, was the voice of the alcohol buzzing in his ears, in his head, in his veins, and in his lips.

_“Women are what is nice!”_ the sour voice petulantly proclaimed, _“Women are what God has intended for you, stray not from the way!”_

If he were to imagine it, that was what should have been the angel on his shoulder, trying to bring him back to the path from which he’d chosen to stray. But as with every angel, there was a little devil. A devil with hellfire whiskey on its tongue, serpentine and seductive, whispering,

_"So they say," _the voice, insidious in its melted sugar voice, _“But this is nice too, isn’t it?”_

_"It's a **sin**!"_ the first voice argued.

_"How can it be a sin if it feels so **heavenly**_ _?"_

Charles couldn’t deny that it was. A kiss was a kiss was a kiss was a kiss. And it didn’t matter _ who _ one was kissing, only that they were good at doing it. And Adam was. So good in fact, it was easy forget that it was _ Adam _ he was kissing. But how could he not? They broke apart for air and Charles opened his eyes just enough to see Adam panting harshly, eyes closed and forehead resting against his own. And his neck… Charles didn’t know what had possessed him. Probably the devil in the whiskey, but he wanted to kiss and bite and nibble and suck. So he did. He managed to rise to a sitting positon, back braced by the arm of the couch, and pull Adam closer until the other male was resting in his lap. He heard gasps of surprised pleasure as he gently abraded the skin with his ministrations and facial hair. Charles felt the familiar stirrings of desire as he held this delicate person in his arms, certain his partner could feel it too. But it was too much, too soon. And deep down both of them knew it. It wouldn’t go any father than this, they insisted to themselves even as vests and ties were discarded, and buttons were undone. And yet, the temptation was there, evident in tautly stretched fabric that would be oh so easy to let a stray hand drift down and grasp. The heady sensation that there was an instinctive knowledge as to what one another might like. Curiosity and pleasure warred with what he had been brought up as morals in Charles’ head. But he could no more stop the desire for sweet kisses than he could stop his own mortal necessity for air.

As they broke apart, there came a sense of overwhelming exhaustion, fatigue that struck him deep down in his bones. Charles didn’t want to stop, but he couldn’t find the strength to continue, barely mustering the energy to stroke a hand along a covered arm as his partner curled up and cuddled into his embrace. Surely, there were words that needed to be spoken. Apologies reiterated, questions of where they now stood, where the line in the sand should be drawn. But Charles could feel his heart rate slowing, evening out as his heavy eyelids refused to lift. Adam nestled his head into the crook of Charles’ neck, content to say nothing, to just be. Desire and ardor cooled by exhaustion and… contentment. Charles wasn’t gay, and he wouldn’t have called himself bisexual either. Desire for another man was not something he found appealing to himself. But Adam wasn’t another man. Adam was Adam, just like Barbara was Barbara, and Delia was his wife. Charles could no longer envision a world without the Maitlands in it than he could envision a world where Emily was still with him. A fanciful dream for one of his more maudlin days of course. But the terror of what if, what if Emily had survived, and they had never moved, never known what they now knew, never knew Barbara, never knew _ Adam _. Charles felt his curled arm tense protectively. Whatever it was that was going on, he wasn’t willing to let it go over some preconceived notions from people who had no idea what lay on the other side. But nor was he brave enough to give it a name just yet.

And yet, despite the indecision, sleep came easily. Blissfully unaware of the interloper who had stumbled upon them in the night. Beetlejuice had laughed to himself, but returned to his “bride’s” room without a word. They owed him one, and if he so chose, he could milk entertainment out of this in one form or another for _ years _ to come.

BJ BJ BJ

The morning came, its light straying from the attic. Charles floated between the edge of reality and dreams, unsure if the sounds he heard were from one world or the other. But sure enough, wakefulness came for him. And he stirred. What he saw when he opened his eyes were the faces of Barbara and his wife looking at him. Delia was bemused, Barbara was concernedly neutral, if that was a fit description for her expression. And Charles realized the position that he and the other man had fallen asleep in.

“I…” Charles felt the heat rise on his face, “I can explain,”

“Have a little too much fun last night Charles?” Delia said lightly, “And here we thought you would have invited us,”

Oh right. Delia had a _ past _. He should have known this sort of thing wouldn’t be too much of a bother for her so long as she was informed of it. Adam also began to wake, and he was the more embarrassed of the two. As he flustered and blustered Delia took control of the situation entirely, holding up a hand to silence him,

“I think, we all need to have a talk,” she announced, “Family meeting in the living room in twenty minutes. Let’s all head back with our _ respective _ spouses and get ready for this, alright?”

And so Charles found himself trailing after his new wife. He didn’t know what to say, from the looks of things, she had found out. He wanted to ask, to apologize, to grovel in supplication. He didn’t want to lose her, or any of them. They were his family now, his world built anew. He wouldn’t handle it falling out beneath him again.

“Delia,” he began, “I-”

“Charles,” Delia cut him off, “I said we would talk about this downstairs. Now go get ready, and…” she added eyeing him critically, “Make sure your collar is buttoned, you’ve got a few hickeys,” she gestured to a region on her own neck, “Right there,”

Charles felt the blood rise to his face as he ducked into his wardrobe to dress for what was unlikely to be anything but an enjoyable conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know what you thought. Thanks for reading and I'll see you all next time Netherlings!


	4. All Together Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished! Hope you all enjoy. What started out as mainly curiosity has now cemented me as a shipper and I hope it's done the same for you.
> 
> Also, slight trigger warning, brief allusion to suicide attempt by a non-involved character mentioned in a conversation. Not tagged because it's not really the focus but please be forewarned it's there.

“So…” Adam began awkwardly, “You and Delia? And Charles?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” Barbara asked in response, “And as for Delia, it was just last night. The same could be said about you and Charles, couldn’t it?”

“I mean… I guess…” Adam began uncomfortably, “Barbara why didn’t you just tell me it kept happening?”

“How could I?” Barbara asked him, “I… Adam I was so confused. And I still am, whatever I did with Charles… it didn’t make me love you any less. But I started…” she sighed, “Look, Delia was right, we need to talk this all out _ together_.”

“Were they any good?” Adam couldn’t help but asking, his own pride as a male wanting to be satiated with the idea that Barbara still preferred him over her other lovers, even though the fact that there had been an ongoing affair with Charles put a crack in that. He didn’t care, he’d accept lipservice and lies so long as she would say it.

“In my eyes,” Barbara answered, “The three of you are… incomparable. You each satisfy me in a different way. And I can’t exactly articulate what it is. I suppose, with you, I feel love and like I’m being cherished, and you’re so sweet and thoughtful. With Charles, it’s a lot of dominating sensuality, and this hidden well of deep affection that he doesn’t want to let anyone close to so he hides it behind his performance -like I said, the first few times, I was a substitute for Emily. And as for Delia,” Barbara shrugged, “She’s a woman like me, having someone know your body almost instinctively has its own perks.”

“I suppose I just don’t get it,” Adam shrugged, “Why you would feel the _ need _ to-”

“I didn’t ‘need’ Adam,” Barbara looked at him sternly, “I’ll take my share of the blame and say I _ let _ myself do this, more than once. And for that I’m sorry, I’m sorry I hurt you, and I’m sorry I made a farce of our vows. But I’m finding things out about myself that I never knew before. You could say the same too, couldn’t you?”

Adam didn’t answer for a moment, looking to the side in an embarrassed manner, “Well…”

“At the very least,” Barbara countered, “You can admit to me that Charles is a good kisser, can’t you?”

“Well…”

“Adam,” Barbara put her hands on her hips, “I saw how you were curled up with him this morning, and I know the ghost booze didn’t affect you nearly as badly as it might have him. I’m being honest with you, can’t you do the same for me?”

“I was curious,” Adam admitted, “I remember what it was like to kiss… you know. And I wondered, is kissing men _ always _ as gross and disgusting? Or is it just him? Because of what he did, and how he did it?”

“And then you two ended up making out on the couch like a couple of teenagers, didn’t you?” Barbara gave him a knowing smirk, “Can we forgive each other? I’m sorry Adam, the reason I wanted Charles to tell you was that I knew…”

“I wouldn’t be able to get mad at you,” Adam finished, “Because I can’t get mad at you, because I love you.”

“And I love you,” Barbara took his hands, “Please believe me when I say that. I know, it doesn’t seem like it, but-”

“We’ll talk about it with them downstairs,” Adam nodded, placing a kiss on their clasped hands, “Thank you for thinking of me Barbara. Whatever happens, we’ll work this out, I know we will.”

They trailed themselves downstairs, and caught Beetlejuice standing in the hallway, leaning against a wall looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. He eyed them and smirked,

“Finally come clean Babs?” he asked, “Or did ya find the evidence of last night wrapped up together like a present with a pretty lil bow on top?”

“Not now Beetlejuice,” she replied flatly, “We need to head downstairs,”

“Whatever you say Babs,” he shrugged, “But before you go; tell me Adam, you _ enjoy _ kissing dick this time around?”

Adam spluttered with embarrassment. But before he could tell the poltergeist, demon, _ thing _ off properly the door to Lydia’s room opened and the girl herself wandered out, in nothing but striped socks and a slinky black, oversized night shirt that completely dwarfed her tiny frame. She looked as though she was just completely done with the noise. So she marched over, grabbed Beetle by the tie, and yanked him down to her level,

“I thought we established already you were gonna knock if off or there _ would _ be consequences,”

“But Babes,” Beetlejuice protested, “I was just yankin’ their chains, harmless fun I swear!”

“No buts,” Lydia countered, “Unless it’s your striped ass getting itself _ back _ in my room, _ now_.”

Beetlejuice looked ready and eager to do whatever she said, “Yes Ma’am,”

But rather than disappear, she pulled him back herself like a master taking control of its dog. The door slammed behind them, and there were no other sounds. Adam and Barbara looked at each other. Somehow, they knew that Beetlejuice still held a good chunk of the power in that dynamic, but he always humored Lydia because he liked her so much. Even so, they worried about Lydia’s brash and rather callous nature ending up crossing a line and causing him to do something drastic, like he had when he’d forced the whole marriage thing in the first place. But all they could do was trust in Lydia when she said she could handle him, or else they’d just push her further into his arms.

They headed down to the living room where Delia and Charles were already sitting. Delia on the loveseat and Charles on the couch. The redhead looked to them, and spoke,

“Adam, why don’t you come sit with me please,” Adam took a seat next to her and Barbara, reading the room, took her seat next to her accomplice. The silence was heavy, and awkward. Delia was the only one who looked remotely comfortable with herself, but even she wasn’t saying anything. Then again, they all had to deal with the ramifications of infidelity, though the burden was arguably the hardest on Barbara and Charles.

“So…” Barbara began, “How should we start talking about,” she gestured between the four of them, “this?”

“Well, I’d say that’s as good a start as any,” Delia began, “Look, Charles, Barbara, what you did was wrong, but I think you already know that,”

The two mentioned individuals cast their gazes to the floor in shame. Yes, they knew what they had done was wrong, and they felt remorse for their actions. But remorse hadn’t actually stopped them from doing it. Besides, Barbara knew Delia wanted to broach the subject of them becoming a unit.

“You should have felt comfortable enough with Adam and I to _ tell _ us you weren’t getting what you needed out of your relationships with us. Partnerships only work when there’s open communication between all parties. You caused us a lot of unnecessary mental stress,” Delia continued to chastise, even though it obviously wasn’t necessary, “Now, that being said, we need to talk about what you two want or need in your relationships.”

That caught them by surprise, “What?” they asked in unison.

“I’ve got my psychological training,” Delia reminded them, “If you two aren’t feeling comfortable in the traditional monogamous, heterosexual relationship, there must be a reason why. I just want us to be able to discuss your needs before we go any further. Charles, why don’t you go first?”

“You have to believe me when I say my original intention was never to do anything like that with another man’s wife,” Charles told Delia and Adam, looking earnest and completely sincere, “Especially when I’m married myself. Delia, you have to know that I love you, that I care about you deeply at the very least. But… I think Lydia was right, and we may have moved a bit too fast.”

“It was only six months when you proposed to me,” Delia allowed, “Three months after that when we got married. I know you said we should keep moving foreward, but I knew I should have listened to myself when I said maybe we should have waited. At least you began seeing that therapist,” Delia let out a mirthless laugh, “Charles, I accept that a part of you will always belong to Emily. You loved her, you still do, and I can’t reasonably expect those feelings to have just disappeared within a year or two, not after how long you had with her. But, I am _ not _ Emily, and while I’m happy you don’t hold me to the same standard as her, I wish you had been more open about what you needed from me that you weren’t getting.”

“I know Delia,” Charles hung his head, “And I’m sorry,”

“Of course,” Delia added, “I can’t blame you for Barbara. She’s nurturing and kind and caring in ways that Lydia needs and I can’t give her. Being a mother, to a teenager especially, it’s a difficult transition and you have to realize that. But neither Barbara nor I alone can be a substitute for Emily, that’s why you wanted both of us, right?”

“I… yes,”

“And as for Adam?” Delia questioned, “What do you need from him?”

“I…” Charles thought about it, “I don’t know. I wish I could tell you, Adam. I’d like your forgiveness for doing this to you. But I realize that’s not something that can be given so easily.”

“Adam,” Delia turned to her seatmate, “What do you need from Charles?”

“I… I don’t know either,” Adam admitted, “What happened last night. I was curious, I mean; I get it Barbara,” he told his spouse, “Charles is an attractive man, anyone in their right mind would think he’s a catch. But-” he cut himself off as though he’d revealed too much.

“You both grew up in a rather… repressive environment, didn’t you?” Delia asked of the Maitlands, “I know Charles did, but he’s lived in New York City his whole life, such things -despite what his ingrained prejudices may suggest- have become normalized to the point where even if he isn’t personally comfortable with them, he’s learned to accept their place in the world. You two on the other hand, was it wrong to be… _ different _ in any way?”

“I knew of a girl once,” Barbara admitted, “Kathryn Oreland. We were friends, good friends. I… I never told anyone this before but, she was my first kiss. She knew… a lot of things, the town thought she was loose and from a bad family, but she’d never been anything but kind. Her parents were hippies, believed in free love and expression and all that. But the whispers and the rumors… I found her once, after school.”

“What happened?” Delia pressed. But Barbara only shook her head. Adam, already knowing how the story went, picked up without going too in depth,

“Katie Overton was a nice girl. Never had a bad word to say about anyone. But rumors can get to anyone if you hear enough of them. If Katie was a lesbian, it might have compounded things further. There was… an attempt. Barbara managed to get medical help, and Katie was alright, physically speaking. But the damage was done. Her reputation in the school was worse than ever, and the rumors kept coming. Right before the end of senior year, Katie’s family moved away, we never heard from her again.”

“The unspoken message was that being like Katie meant you would be forced out,” Barbara finished, “So any curiosity we might have had… we never explored it. If you dated too many people as a woman here, you were a slut. If you didn’t date enough women as a male, you were assumed to…” she shrugged, “You know, which meant you got bullied. If you wanted to know what it was like to experiment it was the exact same thing.”

Charles put a hand on Barbara’s shoulder in comfort and solidarity. Delia did the same to Adam, “And now?” she asked gently, “What do you want to do?”

“If there’s one piece of good advice Beetlejuice has ever made, it was that death doesn’t reward you for living up to the ‘morals’ of the living,” Barbara said, “I hate to admit it, but I look back on my life, and I wonder about all the things I could have done, should have done, but didn’t because I was constantly worried about what others might think of me. I don’t know what I need,” she looked Adam and Delia in the eyes, “But I want to… I want to try, I want to see if a relationship _ can _ be more than two people. Adam, I said I was sorry for all the physical stuff that was happening with Charles, but there’s something else. I’ve been… getting feelings too. I don’t love you any less, but I have to wonder why romantic love has to be limited to just one person, why I can’t I love more than one person in that way?”

“You can,” Delia told her, “And I think that’s what we should try,”

Adam and Charles looked shocked, “What?”

“So, you may not have gotten that far last night,” Delia began, standing and crossing the room until she was able to slid her hands over Barbara’s shoulders, “But we did, I _ like _ Barbara, Charles. I like her a lot. I’d like to see if we could all be together, as one unit. Let’s face it, none of us alone would ever be able to handle Lydia like Emily could. But three of us? Lydia needs people who can be her parents, people she can turn to. Why can’t we all be that for her?”

The two men looked at the women, then at each other. When the looks of discomfort didn’t vanish, Delia scoffed, “Oh come on, we caught you two cuddled up on the couch this morning. And there was evidence you did more than just talking. Charles I know you have some internalized homophobia but can’t you at least give this a chance? Last night wasn’t so bad was it?”

Charles blushed. Adam looked like he would be doing the same if he had any blood to his composition. But Delia supposed it was just harder for men. Men weren’t taught that homosocial behaviors didn’t necessarily mean anything more. Spending time together was “gay”, showing affection was “gay”, being able to process one’s emotions in a healthy manner was “gay”. Delia shook her head, honestly she figured they might be the most difficult ones to agree to this.

“Alright,” Delia sighed, “How about this, we’ll all go about a normal day, and then we’ll do a bit more talking over dinner and wine. And then, we’ll see if we’re a bit more open to this. Sounds good?”

BJ BJ BJ

That was what they ended up doing. But the idea of a “normal” day with the prospect of a more uncomfortable conversation happening with the influence of alcohol. When Charles had brought up his reservations with allowing more liquor into the mix given all the bad decisions it had caused Delia had responded with,

“Charles, you’ve been under so much pressure, you just need to relax! And by god if it takes a stiff drink mixed by a stiff to do it, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Delia and Barbara spent most of the day together, putting together the menu for dinner, setting the table, helping each other in the kitchen. Charles retreated to his office and tried not to be overwhelmed by the memories of how many trysts had occurred in its halls. Adam finished the dresser’s restoration far faster than he’d ever finished any project before, all in the name of taking his mind off what was coming. Which led to his stupid brain changing the phrase to _ who _ might be coming, which was a whole other issue. Especially since he remembered more of what had happened with Charles than the man himself likely did. Ghost booze was apparently good for dulling the senses, not for making one completely forget. No wonder Juno was an alcoholic.

Even Beetlejuice seemed to sense the tense atmosphere, as he’d made himself scarce. Or maybe Lydia had noticed and warned him to keep a lid on it. Lydia herself had apparently overheard the plan and simply ordered a pizza on Charles’ card. That there were still deliverymen willing to come to this house after what had apparently transpired while the adult figures had been incapacitated was astounding. But Beetlejuice showed up after the man had been paid, scared the poor driver, and taken the pizza and disappeared with a flash. The Deetz’s and the Maitlands sat down. Since only the breathers needed to eat there was just two meals plated on the table. There _ were _, however, four glasses filled with red wine. Ghost wine, Barbara explained, but only half a glass, since that was enough to get them buzzed enough to loosen up.

Charles and Delia ate, and the whole affair was rather silent. The Maitlands traded glances around the table, clutching at their wine glasses like security blankets. This time, it was Delia who broke the ice after draining her glass,

“Do we want to explore this potential avenue, or not?” leave it to Delia to lose all tact when inebriated, even slightly.

“I’m willing to give it a try,” Barbara confessed, “I liked being with you. _ All _ of you, but does it need to be so fast? Adam and I have never… participated in an… orgy.”

Delia snorted, still holding her wineglass to her mouth, “Oh Barbie sweetheart,” she chuckled, “An orgy isn’t four people, at least, no _ good _ orgy is.”

Barbara blanched and drained the rest of her wine too. She felt a little embarrassed at the reminder that she wasn’t as cultured or wordly as Delia was. Why either of the Deetz’s found her attractive was still a bit of a mystery.

“Oh, oh honey no,” Delia said, “That wasn’t, I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry. I forget how inexperienced small towners can be. We can try simply swinging tonight, if you like.”

“Swinging?” Adam repeated, “Like, switching partners?”

“If that makes it easier, sure,” Delia shrugged, “Charles what do you think?”

“I’m thinking I’d really rather not be having this conversation right now,” Charles muttered, merely swirling his glass around as opposed to drinking it.

“Then clearly you’re not drunk enough yet,” Delia announced standing and plucking the wine from Charle’s hand. She took a big gulp of it and then kissed him, forcing the liquor down his throat as she did so. Charles sputtered, but enough of it had gotten into his system at once that his eyes immediately went glassy. He wasn’t drunk, but he definitely wasn’t sober any longer.

He blinked blearily. Apparently the more times you drank the stuff the more effective it got. Charles peered around, as though suddenly realizing where he was, “Oh _ hai~ _” he slurred, “It’s the Maitlands. Look Delia, it’s the Maitlands,”

“Yes Charles,” Delia nodded, “Aren’t they cute?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Charles agreed, “They’re adorable,”

“Just makes you wanna squeeze ‘em, doesn’t it?” Delia cajoled, “How bout we all go upstairs?”

“Um…” Adam began, “I don’t think I’m drunk enough for this either,” he admitted as he stood, “Maybe we should all just-”

“No!” Barbara whined, latching onto his arm, “C’mon Adam, drink with us!”

“Drink!” Delia and Charles echoed, which turned into a chorus worthy of a frat party, “Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!”

Always one to succumb to peer pressure, Adam drained his glass. He let out a cough when he was done, “Wow, that stuff’s _ good_, we should have Beetlejuice get us s’more!”

“You called?” Beetlejuice asked as he suddenly appeared, “Ah, I see we have some empty glasses here. Another round then?”

“Yeah!” they agreed. With a snap of his fingers their glasses were refilled.

“I’ll put it on your tabs,” he told them, popping away. Getting them drunk would either be fun, or provide him access to Lydia without watchful eyes. Either way, no real downside.

“Charles,” Delia prodded her husband as she drank, “Charles look,”

“Look where?” Charles asked, “What?”

“Barbie,” Delia whispered conspiratorially, “Isn’t she pretty?” she giggled, “She’s so _ pretty_!”

“She is,” Charles agreed.

"An' her hair's so _fluffy_! I jus' wanna _touch_ it!"

"Not without her permission Delia," Charles chided, "She's not yours, she's Adam's."

"Boo," Delia pouted.

"I agree," Charles nodded, “Adam’s a lucky man,”

“Aren’t we all?” Delia asked, “Adam!” she called, “Adam!”

“Huh?” Adam lifted his head from where he’d put it down on the table. That second drink had hit harder than the first, and the room had begun to spin, “Whazzat?”

“Do you like your men with facial hair, or clean-shaven?” Delia asked through a giggle. It had nothing to do with what they'd been talking about, but that was often how conversations with drunk people went.

“Wha-”

“Did Charles give you beard rash last night?” Barbara clarified, “I’ll bet he did. But if you want my opinion, I like _ both_,”

“I’ll bet you do, you slut,” Delia shot without any venom in her voice.

“Like you’re one to talk!” Barbara laughed outrageously. The women’s mirth echoed and reverberated, filling the men too. But the women had been more on the same page the whole day, having a very intimate discussion before getting wasted. Even through the haze of liquor, they remembered their plan. Eyes locked, they nodded and began tugging on their spouses.

“Let’s take this upstairs,” they murmured suggestively, pulling the men along by their hands and up the stairs. Into Delia’s old bedroom. It had the bigger bed and was the farthest away from Lydia’s bedroom. They didn’t know how loud they were apt to get, but if they could delude themselves into thinking she would remain none the wiser, that was what they would do.

“What are we doing in here?” Charles asked as Adam nodded. Delia had flicked the lock behind them after shoving the other men inside. It wouldn’t necessarily stop Adam from leaving if he wanted to. But Adam seemed a bit like a sheep, lost without their direction. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“What we wanted to do earlier,” Delia and Barbara explained, “We’re gonna have some _ fun_,”

The men stood there, dumbstruck. Their confusion turned to slackened jaws when the women began undressing, “C’mon,” they cajoled, “You may have been a bit worried, so we loosened you two up. Now get down here, or else we’ll get started without you,” and to make good on their threat, Delia and Barbara started to kiss, soft kisses on the lips, hands migrating over lace and satin as they slowly moved to the mattress. It didn’t take long for Charles and Adam, sans most of _ their _ clothes, to follow suit.

BJ BJ BJ

The next morning saw the sun shining in on a messy tangle of limbs and covers. The two breathing bodies were covered in love bites and bruises, and the two spectral ones were warmer than they’d gotten used to. Wakefulness stirred at the edges of consciousness, followed by the throb of soreness that came from pleasant exertions. Soft sighs and searching hands moved over skin as eyes fluttered open only to shut against the golden glare. Slowly, they woke, slowly, clarity returned to their vision and their memories. Slowly, they realized just what they had done through the night. Now, the question was whether they would accept the shift in their dynamic, or if they would freak out and insist on a futile return to form before giving in once again, repeat cycle ad nauseum?

Without the effects of booze it was so easy for the worries and insecurities to come forth like a tidal wave, threatening to drawn the thinker in anxiety. Delia’s anxiety was worrying about rejection. Charles had chosen her, but what if the others didn’t? She couldn’t handle going back now, not when she knew what it was like to feel innocent and open love flow forth from two people she admired, not when she felt like she finally _ belonged _ . Barbara was worried that the sins she’d committed would keep her from exploring this new facet to her personality and sexuality, that her curiosity and weakness would ruin relationships for her because she wouldn’t be thought of as trustworthy. Adam’s was the discovery that maybe he liked men more than he’d thought, and was re-evaluating his entire life, worrying that his affection for Barbara hadn’t been true love but a deep repressive desire to bury who he really was and do what was expected of him. And Charles was harassed by the litany of angry churchgoers in his head, screaming that this was a sin and he was going to Hell; with even the knowledge of just what Hell _ was _ doing little to reassure him.

They were silent, mired in their worries as they each sat in a corner of the bed, lonely and isolated. What was supposed to have brought them together now threatened to push them further apart. It wasn’t until there was an incidental touch that they remembered, they weren’t alone. They were together, which meant they were in _ this _ together if they so chose. Adam squeezed Delia’s hand, which caused a soft smile to stretch across her face. She reached for Charles, who reached for Barbara, who reached for Adam and then they were all connected. The pleasure of taboo was tempered now by a genuine respect and admiration. Sure, what they had done was wild, perhaps even a little crazy. Certainly strange and unusual. But wasn’t that their normal now? Hesitant smiles were shared, still uncertain about their future together, would passion be enough? Was there only passion to share with one another that like a spark against a powder keg would ignite with a bang but leave nothing but destruction lingering behind?

In the end, Charles was the one to ask, “Where do we go from here?”

They shared looks again. And the answer was there. Unspoken, but committed. Anywhere, so long as they went together.

BJ BJ BJ

Almost two weeks later, Beetlejuice was the one howling with laughter as he entered Lydia’s room one night. He found the entire arrangement very amusing. Lydia, on the other hand… not so much. Sure, she was glad the people she cared about were happy. But on the other hand, there were definitely some drawbacks. Not the least of it being that she now had _ four _ nosy parental units that she couldn’t play off one another as easily as she had before. And two,

“Oh man do you hear that Lyds?” Beetlejuice asked through his mirth, putting a hand to his ear as though he needed it to hear the low, rhythmic thudding of something heavy against something immovable, “And I thought they weren’t the orgy-ing kind!”

Lydia rolled her eyes, keeping a pillow wrapped around her head and firmly pressed to her ears. They were still in the honeymoon phase, which meant they were super affectionate, and horny. Something the goth girl did _ not _ want to think about. Who wanted to think about their parents having sex? Furthermore, who wanted hard _ evidence _ of their parents having sex? The only way it could get any worse was if they got careless and she _ walked in _ on- nope. No, not happening. She was _ not _ going to finish that thought.

“Can ya believe it?” Beetlejuice was certainly mining the situation for all it was worth. Why he found the idea of her parents engaging in a polyamorous relationship so amusing, she’d quickly ceased attempting to understand, “Wonder who’s gettin’ and who’s givin’, your ghost parents, or your breather ones?”

“Ugh,” Lydia groaned.

“Now ain't that some freaky shit Lyds?” he kept prodding, “Your parents banging your ghost parents? That’s just priceless. Man I love this place,”

“You do know I’ve spent the better part of the last twenty minutes _ trying _ not to acknowledge that, right?” Lydia asked, pressing tighter against the pillow to no avail, “And you’re not making it any easier.”

“Who said I was trying to?” Beetlejuice asked, obnoxious grin firmly plastered on his face.

“Well, if you’re that invested in their sex life, why don’t you go join them and leave _ me _ alone?” Lydia countered, throwing herself back on the bed and giving up on the pillow entirely.

Beetlejuice gasped, putting a hand over his heart, “Well,” he harrumphed, “Much as the idea might appeal, I have enough self-respect to wait for them to _ask_,Lydia. In the meantime…” his smile turned to a smarmy leer, “What are _ your _ plans for this evening?”

“Definitely not having an orgy,” Lydia deadpanned.

“Course not,” Beetlejuice snorted, “Hard to have an orgy with just two people now isn’t it? But if you’re _ really _ interested, I can change that real quick-” he was cut off as the pillow Lydia had aimed at him struck him in the head, “Hey!”

“Oh please,” Lydia scoffed, “Like that would happen. You’re a selfish prick, and you don’t like sharing. Not to mention you’re incredibly clingy. So how would we conceivably have an orgy?”

“Well,” Beetlejuice allowed backing up to the door with his hands behind his back. Up to no good, as always, “As a matter of fact I can think of a few people I wouldn’t mind sharing ya with.”

“And those would be?” Lydia arched a brow at him, arms folded and pushing her breasts up entirely.

“Allow me to introduce you,” Beetlejuice grinned, “To me,” out stepped a clone on one side, “Myself,” there came a second on the other, “And I,” he jerked a thumb at himself.

Lydia’s eyes widened, only to darken with intrigue, “Nice friends you got there,” Lydia remarked, “But that’s a lot of… juice all at once,” she snickered, “Don’t you think?”

“Only one way to find out,” the grins on all the Beej’s turned feral, and with only a hint of warning, they pounced. Seemed as though no one would be getting any sleep that night, and not a single bleary-eyed, well-worn person was going to complain about it either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know what you thought. Thank you so much for coming along with me on this ride and reading. Until I see you again Netherlings!


	5. Bonus: Adam and Delia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is why you shouldn't make art friends. They'll bribe you with fantastic art for fic. I'm kidding, I love my art friends and hope one in particular enjoys this bonus chapter, as do the rest of you!

Adam Maitland had a type. He was attracted to strong personalities, the ones who could take charge when necessary. Or were larger than life and found a way to make everything seem exciting. Barbara seemed quiet and unassuming, but she was a force to be reckoned with when made angry. Something their resident demonic poltergeist had found out first hand. Naturally, strong personalities also gravitated towards each other, which probably explained why Barbara and Charles had gotten involved. Adam couldn't blame his wife, Charles was a good looking man and according to anecdotes just as good a lover. Adam only had the one alcohol fueled experience to go off of at the time, but he would guess they weren't wrong.

Still. Being a part of a relationship that was more than just two people… it was a bit of an adjustment for him. He’d made vows to Barbara, and something within him rebelled at the idea of engaging with either of the Deetzes the way he’d always engaged with Barbara. He felt even more isolated because Barbara clearly had no problem doing exactly that. Which he was fine with, Barbara had always been the braver of the two of them. It made sense she would accept this change with poise, grace, and ease. But Adam… he still just _ couldn’t_.

Even still, that didn’t stop his admiration from growing. Especially for Delia. He had broken down at Charles’ confession that night what seemed ages ago. But to think he had gotten it so wrong he hadn’t any real idea of what was going on. He thought he’d found a partner in Charles, instead he’d found a culprit. And to later find out, not only had Delia figured it out, she had risen above being mad at yet another spousal betrayal and bring them all closer together. Truly, in spite of how deeply unhappy he and Barbara had pegged her upon the Deetz family’s arrival, Delia was a strong woman. But who did she allow herself to be weak around?

It was a question that continued to plague him. But one he wasn’t sure he had the courage to ask. Delia was vivacious, always busying herself with something. When she dedicated herself to something, she threw herself into it completely. Interior design, new age spiritualism, being the best wife and mother she could manage despite her own inability at relating to Lydia. It meant there was very little time outside of intimate activities she wasn’t occupied. And those times, those times he just didn’t feel it was appropriate to bring up such matters. But what could he do? Offer her to come up and mediate as he did some restoration? Invite her to come and help with a project? Delia’s enthusiasm was admirable but it could get both overwhelming and in the way sometimes. And Barbara was still trying to teach her how to cook so…

The more he wondered about who Delia could rely on when she needed someone the more he began to wonder if _ he _ couldn’t be that person, just as he had for Barbara, just as Barbara now sometimes acted for Charles. Just as all of them acted for Lydia, when she had need of them. It was as he was pondering while doing his sanding that Beetlejuice decided to pop in one day,

“What’s up Ads?” he asked the other man. Since the knowledge of the new relationship status between the Deetzes and the Maitlands had come about Beetlejuice had been remarkably civil. Which meant the sexual harassment was relegated to crude jokes about Lydia solely for the sake of getting their protective goats. Just because he was playing what Beetlejuice probably surmised to be ‘nice’ didn’t mean he still wasn’t someone with deep-seated issues and an obnoxious personality.

“Nothing really Beetlejuice,” Adam sighed, already tossing any hope of ignoring the demonic poltergeist out the window. If you attempted to Beetlejuice pushed you past your breaking point only to get bored and leave, leaving the victim even more frustrated. And answering was an open invitation to continue, but usually the less aggravating option.

“Really?” Beetlejuice tilted his head to one side, “That’s why you’re rubbing a hole in that piece of wood right there?”

Adam stopped in time to realize that, darn it all, Beetlejuice was right. Originally he’d just been intending to sand it down enough for a fresh coat of stain and protective sealant. But at the rate he was going it would also need a patch too. Cautiously Adam knocked against the segment he’d been working on, not _ too _ much weaker. He’d just have to pay more attention. Adam sighed, well, at least that gave him more to occupy his mind with.

“Y’know, maybe I’m not the person to talk to about this,” Beetlejuice began, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “But it seems as though you’re rather conflicted about something.”

“What?” Adam tried to laugh off the question, “That’s ridiculous, I’m not… conflicted… about anything…”

“Yeah, because _ that _ sounded convincing,” Beetlejuice scoffed, “Look, my advice? Whatever you’re worried about doing, just do it. Unless it’s going outside. In that case, _ do not _ do that.”

“Oh really now,” Adam put the sander and his rag down and put his hands on his hips, “And why the concern?”

“One, because you’re sexy,” Beetlejuice said, counting off on his fingers even though it sounded like this was more of a prerequisited joke than it was meant to actually incite a reaction, “And two, Lydia would be upset if you got eaten by a sandworm. ‘N _ I _ don’t like seeing Lydia upset, got it?”

“Ah,” yeah that made a lot of sense. Adam really should have known Beetlejuice’s lingering interest in Lydia would be the only thing to cause him to care beyond passing concern for him, “Well I wasn’t conflicted about trying to leave the house Beetlejuice, so there really wasn’t any need to worry.”

“Then my original advice stands,” Beetlejuice shot back, “Whatever you’re worried about doing, just do it. If death has taught you anything, it should have taught you that no one outside this house gives a shit about you anymore…” he paused, “That sounded harsh, I know, but you know what I mean. You’re dead, no one cares about what type of person you are except those breathers downstairs. And hell, Red’s accepted me as part of the family already, I don’t see why you think any one of ‘em would think less of _ you _.”

“It’s not about all of them!” Adam shouted, not meaning to but not being able to help himself. Beetlejuice was drifting too close to the truth. And Adam wasn’t certain he wanted to talk about any of this with the demon.

But of course, he was only as perceptive as he wanted to be. And Beetlejuice clearly wanted to know what was going on here, “Ah,” he said, nodding his head sagely, “Trouble in paradise then, Mister Deetz-Maitland?”

“Oh god, don’t say that,” they had only just started being in a relationship. It was _ way _ too soon to be thinking about further cementing themselves like that.

“I’ll take that as a yes, but you’re not drinking and I know there’s ghost booze around here so it can’t be _ all _ that bad. You’re probably just overthinking things.”

“I just… it’s all new,” Adam found himself admitting, “Being in a relationship that’s more than two people. And I feel left out because I seem to be the only one having problems with it.”

“You’re an idiot if you think you’re the only one in your little orgy group having a problem adjusting,” Beetlejuice proclaimed.

“Well Barbara and Charles certainly aren’t having very many problems. Well, maybe a little with Charles but he’s got a life time of brainwashing to undo there and-”

“Chuck wasn’t who I was talking about,” Beetlejuice informed him, “But you’re right, Babs is kinkier than I gave her credit for. Then again, from what I’ve seen, women grow up being taught that it’s okay to be more open with love. The concept probably only needed some minor adjustment to click.”

“But if it isn’t Charles, and it isn’t Barbara…” the idea slowly dawned on him, “No, no you can’t mean Delia. Delia’s the one who suggested this. She’s been for it since the beginning!”

“You really think that, don’t you?” Beetlejuice asked, “Well hell, maybe you’re right. But just because she was for the idea don’t mean it’s been any easier for her than it has for you. She’s done some stuff, but Lydia’s also told me she’s been through some shit too. And with how Babs and Charles went down -literally and metaphorically speaking- I wouldn’t be surprised if it left her with a few scars. She might be putting on a happy face, but she’s as fragile as any other breather out there.”

“No, not Delia,” Adam shook his head, “Delia’s so strong, and independent, and able to see the good in any situation, and-”

“Jesus Christ are you a kid with a crush on his hot babysitter or what?” Beetlejuice asked.

“W-_ What _?” Adam sputtered and scoffed, folding his arms and looking away, “I don’t have a crush on-”

“Cut the crap Adam,” Beetlejuice deadpanned, “You got a crush on her. Hell, ‘t’s normal to have a wandrin’ eye. ‘Specially after some of the shit the four of you have done. But here’s the problem; yer puttin’ Red on a pedestal, and I’m wondering what it’s gonna take before she disappoints ya. Red _ acts _ strong, but she’s weak too. Still a woman, still should be _ allowed _ to be weak. Ya ever wonder what Charles and Babs might have made of her if she’d ever expressed anything _ but _ acceptance for this whole arrangement?”

“Well I… No,” Adam hung his head in shame as he admitted that last part. Here was someone else having the same sort of trouble adjusting and like a selfish fool he’d been focusing entirely on himself, “I honestly didn’t,”

“Well, if ya wanna know what she’s _ really _ feelin’ I suggest you start payin’ closer attention the next time ol’ Chuckie has one of his bad days and spends it screwin’ _ yer _ wife.”

As it turned out Adam didn’t have to wait long. Charles had another one of his bad days soon after that. Adam had been hanging around more to get a good read on the room. He felt it, that depressive atmosphere that seemed to permeate the household. He watched Lydia get ready for school and head out, with Beetlejuice in tow. He saw Barbara and Delia communicating over cleaning up after breakfast, and Charles staring forlornly out the window after his daughter. Adam wasn’t close enough to hear what the women were talking about, but he could see hands, mouths, and heads moving. Eventually, they nodded and Barbara went to Charles, putting a hand on his shoulder. The two of them walked off, and that was when he saw it. The pain in Delia’s eyes, the tension in her hands the way she clasped them together. The way she wanted to be the one to do something, but _ couldn't _ . And as quickly as she watched them go, she turned to occupy herself. Occupy her hands, and occupy her mind. It felt like a private moment, and yet, he wanted to be able to do something, to _ be there _ for her. And yet, that would require him to muster up his limited courage and step outside his comfort zone. Barbara, he could comfort her without any issue, but Delia was still a stranger even after everything they’d done. A stranger he admired greatly, but… maybe Beetlejuice had been right. He’d been putting Delia up on a pedestal but what did he really know about her?

That was a question he resolved to answer. And he would do it by asking her. Adam quietly went up behind Delia, putting a hand on her shoulder. She froze and turned to look at him. Adam said nothing, but put his arms out, the unspoken invitation for her to take a hug if she needed it. Delia looked at him a moment and then took it. She buried herself into his noncorporeal chest and began to sob. Adam put his arms around her and just let her cry silently. He didn’t bother to ask, he just wanted her to know he was there. They stood like that for an indeterminate length of time. What could have been hours, but in reality was likely only minutes. Eternity and a single instance all in one breath. Time moved differently for the dead, but hanging around either of the Deetzes always made him feel so _ alive_. Barbara had confessed that part of what drew her back time and time again was the ability to feel what she had lost. That warmth of life and light all contained in a breather’s skin. He’d felt it the nights they all came together, lingering, burning, searing. But it never lasted long enough for him to crave it. Not until he held Delia in his arms. And strangely enough, there was another familiar sensation. The sense of frantic anticipation, the thrumming of one’s heart in their chest. Except his had stopped beating long ago. And yet, there it was. Delia was a tall woman. She was not, however, taller than him. Which meant she fit perfectly under his chin as she buried herself into him. And it finally hit him. This was what Beetlejuice had been talking about. Delia was a strong woman, what she needed was someone she could be weak around.

Eventually, they moved to the living room, sat on the couch still close to touching. Eventually, Delia told her what had happened; how she had been abandoned by everything she had ever tried to be a part of. How she was accepting and supportive and she _ did _ love being in this relationship with all of them, but still having trouble because part of the vows she had made to Charles was to be there for her when he _ needed _ her. And right now he needed and she couldn’t help him. But Barbara could. And she knew it was stupid to be so jealous and insecure because both of the others had already admitted them being together had in no way made them want to kick their spouses to the curb. But irrational fear was irrational for a reason, especially when it was grounded in past trauma. Adam told her he knew the type of fears she had.

They had gotten to talking, talking the whole day through. Talking and laughing and really getting to _ know _ one another. Talking about the weather, about veganism, vaping, favorite colors, childhood memories, inane and important, so long as the conversation kept going. It made Adam like her all the more. Beneath the desire to make sense of the world was truly a strong, courageous woman who threw herself wholeheartedly into her passions. Adam offered to let her come and join him in his restoration hobby if she liked, even if it was just to meditate. Delia put her hand over her heart, and thanked him,

“It’s nothing,” Adam assured her, seeming to realize just how close they’d been sitting for so long. He didn’t to move away, but he didn’t want things to be awkward either. Maybe so long as he didn’t get any closer…

“No really,” Delia said, turning away even as she scooted closer with a sly smile on her face, “I can’t _ tell _ you how much it means to me. To have someone else… to have _ you _ be here with me. I spent so long wanting to be there for the ones I cared about… I never really thought about myself until I was all alone. Isn’t that funny?”

“I’ve been…” this was embarrassing but he felt he _ had _ to tell her, “Watching you for a while. Not in a creepy way or anything like that,” he quickly assured her, “But how you took charge, how you could have been mad, had every right to be, and instead you found a way to bring it, bring us, somewhere we probably never would have considered. I’ve seen how you try your best with Lydia, how you encourage her because you still _ remember _ what it was like to be young. And I’ve seen how much Lydia _ needs _ that one person who supports her making her own decisions. Barbara and I… we never got the chance to have kids, and now it feels like we just had one and we’re trying to start from scratch, but Lydia’s already almost a grown up and we don’t have the time to fall back on what worked originally. But you’ve accepted that she’s capable of thinking and acting for herself. And I think that’s just so incredible,”

“Oh no,” Delia giggled, “Stop,” though her tone indicated she didn’t want him to at all.

“No really, I think you’re incredible Delia,” Adam told her, turning away so he could move slightly closer as she leaned back against him he added, “It just feels like I have a major crush on you… and I have for a while now.”

She was silent, and he couldn’t see her expression. Not wanting to make the situation anymore awkward Adam went to make an excuse, but what came out was, “Is that alright?”

“Oh Adam,” she sighed, “It’s more than alright,”

He swallowed hard, “It… it is?”

“Mhm,” Delia nodded, “because… I like you too.”

She turned to him, and placed a hand against his cheek. He leaned down, she leaned in. And they kissed. Adam remembered the sensation, the buzzing of life and warmth reverberating through his body and spreading from his mouth. The taste of something he’d once taken for granted. It was reminiscent of the night he’d kissed Charles, of the night they had spent all together. But there was no Charles now, there was no Barbara. There was just Delia and Adam, and it was just as intoxicating. In the same way that Barbara and Charles had naturally gravitated towards one another, so too did Delia and Adam. The type of gravitation that was easy to get lost in, until by the time they broke apart for air Delia was on her back on the couch with her neckline gaping open and several hickeys on her neck. There was a momentary look shared between them and then they dove back in, lips caressing one another, hands roaming over backs and under arms and fingers fiddling with clothing. When Adam pulled apart again her hair was unbound from its usual style, spilled out around her head like a fiery halo. Absently, a story from his brief interest in folklore from around the world came to mind. That of the Kitsune, a vixen fox with the ability to transform her appearance to that of a beautiful and seductive woman. Was he this vixen's prey? He rather hoped so. Delia continued to gasp for breath. Her chest heaved, and Adam _ wanted_, wanted more. Still he desired, a hunger awoken in him he was surprised to find and yet did not wish to contain. Even so, his bashfullness with its typical impeccable timing chose that moment to rear its head, as he heard the small clock on the mantel chime the hour,

“Are we…” he failed to ask, “Do you want to…”

“Just us?” Delia asked, “I do,” she nodded, “I want to get to know all of my partners as well as I can. And to be quite honest I’ve been thinking about how to approach you too. I thought it was very brave, what you did.”

“What I did?”

“Back then, with Beetlejuice,” Delia explained, “Made yourself uncomfortable to try and help save Lydia. And then, you didn’t kill Charles, plenty of other men would have.”

“In my defense I was drunk,”

“All the more reason I find it admirable,” Delia brushed a stray lock of hair away from his face, “Inhibitions tend to get dropped, alcohol can bring out the worst in humanity, but you remained better. It was so wonderful to hear,”

Adam blushed, rather he would have had he any blood left to his cheeks, “Well, I…-”

Whatever he had been about to say was cut off by the slamming of the front door as it opened,

“We’re ba~ack!” Beetlejuice sang as he bounded inside, “And boy what a hell of a boring da-” he stopped sort when he saw the pair on the couch, “Well look at you go Ads, so tell me; how’s banging the babysitter feel?”

“_Beetlejuice_!” the two hissed, clearly not finding his attempt at humor comical. Beetlejuice held up his hands in a placating manner while Lydia still busied herself with her entrance home. 

“Fine, fine,” the demon immediately backed off, “I’ll just be upstairs, wonder if Chuck and Babs are done fooling around yet,”

“I hope they’re not,” Delia murmured as she stood and fixed her dress before turning to greet Lydia.

“Why is that?” Adam threw his voice so that only she could hear it as he also waved Lydia in. He was worried Delia was still upset about the arrangement and didn't want to see the happy glow they were sure to be basking in afterwards. Adam asked Lydia if she needed any help with her homework only to hear her negatory response as she retreated to her room, her demonic spouse in tow.

“Because,” Delia grabbed his arm and began hauling him up the stairs, “I think I want a little more _ quality time _ with you first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know what you thought. Thanks so much for reading and I'll see you all next time Netherlings!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, please leave a comment and let me know what you thought. Until next time netherlings!


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